Blooded Petals
by Eternitys End
Summary: Routine is not to be broken. Comfort is not to be taken for granted. Trust is not to be won so easily. Betrayal's punishment is to be savored. (Warning: Spoilers, yaoi: AxY KxO)
1. The Trials of a White Leather Interior

****

Blooded Petals

By Eternitys End

Normal disclaimers apply: I do not, nor do I claim to, hold any ownership over Weiss Kreuz or any of its parts. More's the pity.

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A/N (1): To those of you following my other Weiss Kreuz fic, Stimulus, do not lose hope. I am currently rewriting all the chapters, as I do not feel comfortable continuing the story with the plot holes and flawed characterizations I have developed thus far. 

A/N (2): Posting will be erratic because, although I am on break, family illness has thrown my schedule out the window.

A/N (3): Reviews are much appreciated, whether here or directly to me at _EternitysEnd @ eternitysend. cjb. net__. I also encourage anyone to check out my website at http:// eternitysend. cjb. net. (Minus the spacing of course) Any and all submissions are welcome!_

A/N (4): This takes place…two and a quarter years after Persia's death. Please excuse any errors on my part. I'd figure the time to be somewhere around January. 

Chapter One: Bad Habits Take Time To Develop

"Hey," Omi sifted through a sheaf of papers, documents from their mission four days ago, briefly scanning each before furthering his remark. "You don't think there's something wrong with what we're doing?" He pulled at his seatbelt, scooting the papers off his lap into a neat pile at his side. "With us, I mean?" He looked to the lanky blonde in the far seat, plucking idly at a sealed pack of cigarettes.

Youji looked up from his plaything, glancing first towards the boy, then to his colleagues in the front for help. "That's a loaded question." He sidestepped nicely, and with a glance to the front carefully began peeling the cellophane away the packet.

"You're not opening those in my car." Aya warned, reaching through his open window to grab a bag as it was passed through. With a glance back at his car's occupants, he dropped the bag in Ken's lap. 

"I'm not going to _smoke_ them, I just want to _open_ them." Youji whined, kicking a boot tip into the soft back of the driver's seat. 

"My car will not smell like smoke." Aya hissed at the man behind him before retrieving another bag through the window, this one bearing a deep grease stain on the bottom. 

"Do you need a drink carrier?" The teenager serving them, sporting roots as greasy as the last bag's bottom, leaned her head in the window, inspecting the four men inside. Aya raised an eyebrow and gave a sympathetic smile, subtly shifting away from her stringy hair.

"We've got hands." Ken offered, holding his up as evidence, leaning over Aya to pull two cups from the girl's hands. After inspecting the tops, he passed to the backseat, one to Youji and the other to Omi. 

"Thank you, and please come again!" The girl cooed as Aya dropped the grease laden bag onto Ken's lap, retrieved the last too sodas and deposited them in the front cup holders. Rolling up the window, Aya shifted into gear and sped out of the all too familiar Drive-Thru of McDonald's. 

"You're not putting that on my carpet." Aya watched out of the corner of his eye, to see Ken inching the greasy bag off his shorts-clad thigh. A streaking trail marked its passage and the brunette grumbled his disgust. 

"Mou! They gave me the diet!" Omi cried, glaring at the tall paper cup accusingly. After a long moment, in which Omi obviously decided the golden arches printed there couldn't be at fault, he glanced hopefully at the others. 

"Can't help you," Youji drawled, his own soda gurgling as he sipped. "Diet." He tipped the cup after a long gulp. 

"Ken?" Omi cast his big blues at the headrest in front of him. Ken shifted easily, unwilling to turn around for fear of the full puppy-eyes treatment. 

"You don't like iced tea." Ken muttered, obviously losing his resolve. "Its artificially flavored. With corn syrup instead of sugar. And it's from a powder. Not brewed." He pointed out all the flaws, clutching his drink in a possessive grip. 

"I do like…" Omi needn't continue, as Aya passed his own orange soda back, exchanging it for the younger man's. 

"Thank you, Aya!" Omi exclaimed, shifting the ice with a sated look. "You're too kind!" He cooed, sending meaningful glares at the car's less helpful occupants. Aya kept his gaze on the road. 

"Don't." He bit out suddenly. Ken looked startled, an extra long fry posed before his mouth. 

"I won't drop…" Ken pouted, watching Aya watch the road.

"Wait till you get home." Ken glanced from the limp strip of potato to his leader, weighing his odds. Then, braving a gesture of defiance, he stuffed the piece into his mouth at once, grinning widely. 

"Ooooooh!" Encouragement came from the back. Aya pulled to a stop at a light, using the time to glare at Ken. The brunette remained strong, moved to swallow, then promptly began to choke. 

"It's the death glare!" Youji whispered loudly, making Omi dissolve into giggles. "It really does work!" He chortled happily. 

"But," Omi confided in response. "This is Ken-kun." He drew in a breath, bracing himself for his line. "All his coordination is in his feet, we really can't expect him to breath and swallow at the same time!" The blondes crumpled together in the center of the seat, their sodas sloshing dangerously. 

"Omi!" Ken pouted, turning 180 in his seat while still retaining his hold on the bags. "That was mean!" Color had risen up his neck, and in an effort to keep it from flooding his entire face, he pointed the conversation in a new direction. "You never explained your question earlier." 

The rear seat sobered, Omi shrugging noncommittally. "I was just wondering, if what we've been doing isn't telling." He gestured to the car's contents vaguely. "This really can't be healthy, eating so much fast food and microwave meals. Whatever happened to the meal schedule we worked out?" Everyone glanced at the lumpy bags on Ken's lap, considering. 

"'Course we're healthy." Youji exclaimed, even as he examined his exposed midriff with a worried brow. "You don't think I'm getting fat, do you?" Ken laughed and Aya raised an eyebrow in the rear-view mirror.

"You're not fat, Youji-kun." Omi assured him solemnly. "If anything, you're too skinny." He poked at the abdomen in question, pointing out the fact that his hips jutted even when in a comfortable sprawl. 

"You're not exactly a walrus yourself." Youji poked through the thin brown material of his friend's stringy top, pinching at the tightly muscled skin beneath. 

"Well, Yotan." Ken had turned to kneel on his seat, looking back at him. The fast-food bags lay slouched on the floor, forgotten. "I think you might benefit from a bit of exercise, myself." He teased. "Keep drinking as you have, and before you know it," He paused dramatically. "You'll have a beer gut!" 

Ken looked immensely pleased with himself as Youji gasped in not-completely feigned horror. Omi once more dissolved into giggles and even Aya smirked at the playboy in back. 

"Never!" Crooned Youji, shaking his diet soda at the general populous. "Kudou Youji will never submit to such common, middle aged tactics!" He knocked Omi's soft drink by accident, and much to their horror, bright orange slopped towards the white leather interior. To their mutual relief, the sticky soda hit Omi's shorts and was absorbed into the faded cargos. 

"You are getting old, Yotan. Middle-aged isn't that far off!" Ken crowed at the blonde. "Your hair isn't looking nearly as thick as it used to. Does balding run in the family?" Everyone froze at the mention of such a taboo subject. 

"Twenty-four is too soon to be showing major signs of balding. You're hairline might recede, but actual thinning will be apparently only in early- to mid-thirties." Aya reassured, watching in the rear-view as Youji patted his scalp tentatively. 

"But still," Omi said with a long suffering sigh, attempting to steer the conversation back on track. "I think it might be a good idea if we ate in more often." 

The attempt earned non-committal responses and half-hearted agreement. The car lapsed into silence until Ken broke it, pointing out the window and screeching "Turn in! Turn in here!" 

An hour later, the boys stretched out in the mission room, half their attention on the flickering screen.

"This is the last time we let you pick the movie." Youji hissed at Ken, flicking his fingers through Aya's eartail distractedly, wedging a socked foot under the younger man's thigh. 

"Mou," Omi pouted from his sprawl on the carpet, his head tucked somewhere under Ken's arm and on top of his chest. "This is boring. People don't die like that and what's so scary about a maniac in a mask? He couldn't get away with that in real life! Plus, high school was _not_ like that for me." 

"I had a tutor in J-league, but I'm pretty sure high school's not like that for anyone." Ken murmured, rolling over on his boyfriend. "Unless," He teased, "I'm mistaken and you just had no life in high school." 

"No parent leaves their teenager home alone for the weekend like that." Aya defended. "They either make you come along on their little trip, or they have a neighbor check up on you. There's no opportunity for a party like that. Especially if they're left in charge of their younger sist...err…siblings. And where exactly are they getting all that beer with their minimum wage incomes?" 

Youji coughed into his hand and shifted uncomfortably. "Um, yeah." He agreed when faced with Aya's icy glare.

The others faced him with looks of interest. "Of course, Youji is the authority on all things alcoholic."

"Some parents will leave like that." Youji indicated vaguely at the screen, two beef-necked boys hooting 'chug' among various catcalls. "And if everyone just throws five into a hat…" He trailed off weakly, frowning as Aya shifted his weight off his foot, showing his disapproval. 

"Oh, Youji-kun." Omi sighed melodramatically, snuggling into his human pillow. "Let's just watch the movie." He redirected their attention once again. Aya moved back to his side and the group resettled into content half-watching. 

Not fifteen minutes later, the calm was broken by the sound of a door opening. Ken paused the movie, they turned and waited for the familiar double click of Manx descending the stairs with a mission. Instead there was the muffled squeak of men's dress shoes followed shortly by the heavier thump of boots. The boys were on their feet, tensed and ready. The reel of Youji's watch squealed while Omi fingered a dart anxiously. Ken and Aya were posed behind with no weapon readily available, but more than proficient in the use of pure muscle. They held a breath as the first foot, encased in shining black leather, appeared on the winding stair. 

"Identify yourselves." Aya growled as unfamiliar, pinstriped legs paused mid-step. The unnamed man hurried the last stretch, exposing himself as a middle-aged man, beefy around the middle with a few streaks of silver at his temples and the jowls of his beard. A younger man with jet black hair followed at his heels. 

"Relax." The man batted sausage like fingers at them. "A Kritiker agent really should identify the situation before acting." He muttered disapprovingly. "And you were once the best we had." The man sighed, patting the layer of his gut. 

"Who are you?" Aya hissed again, moving toward the new pair, displeased at the need to repeat himself. 

"You're Kritiker?" Youji stepped forward, stopping with a look from iced violet eyes. 

"Really!" The man, inviting himself in, settled on the couch and produced a folder from an inner pocket. "Proof." He flipped open the file, sliding out a sheet sporting a fancy raised seal and a flourishing signature. Aya lifted the paper, examining it closely before passing it to Omi. 

"I've never seen Kritiker with a seal before." He bit shortly. Omi ran his fingers over the starched sheet before passing it back to their leader. 

"It's legitimate. But Persia didn't like to use it. Such a clean image doesn't fit." He indicated the white emblem with a frown. 

"Persia prefers this emblem." Beefy pinstripe corrected. "The late Taketori-san chose not to employ the seal." 

"What do you mean 'the late Taketori-san'," Ken protested. "Persia was…"

"The position of Persia, empty for the last two and a quarter years, has recently been filled." Predicting their next question, the man held up his hand and continued. "A Kritiker agent is given information on a need to know basis. The identity of Persia is not pertinent to maintaining your safety nor completing your missions." 

"You say an awful lot, but you still don't tell us much." Ken frowned, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"You still haven't told us who you are." Omi intervened, indicating Beefy Pinstripe and his accomplice, Scowling Brunette in Army Boots. "Or why you're here instead of Manx." He plopped down on the floor in front of the couch, proving his willingness to listen. Reluctantly, the others followed in suit. 

"You," Beefy Pinstripe indicated the room with a sweeping, arrogant gesture, "May call me Tonkinese." He nodded at his young partner. "And this, agents, is your team's newest addition, Angora." The newly named Angora stood stiffly behind the couch, his posture straight and shoulders back. 

"Angora? You're named after my sweater!" Youji laughed awkwardly in the tense silence. 

"My code name," Angora corrected. "It's a Turkish long-haired breed." He was met with odd looks and continued, his voice low and rich, a contrast to his booming partner. "My name is Akai Nobari." 

"Private Nobari." Tonkinese interjected with pride. Akai bowed politely.

"Formerly private." He murmured, his voice easily understood despite being soft spoken.

"Private of what?" Youji shifted his weight. "You don't look old enough to have been in the military." 

"I am nineteen." He acquiesced. "As to the circumstances of my position, I am, unfortunately, not at liberty to say." Matching frowns met him now. Distrust showed easily on his new colleagues' faces. 

"We're just supposed to take him in?" 

"We function fine with four, why add someone now?

"You never answered, why, Tonkinese, are you here? Where is Manx?" Aya finally asked a question Tonkinese deemed worthy of an answer.

"I am here to introduce you to your new teammate, of course! I'll be along in a few days with your first mission, but you'll need to get Akai settled first." He smiled, an unfortunate sight, as the rolls of his neck rippled with the motion. "Manx will no longer be serving your missions."

"What?!?" and exclamations of similar meaning were quickly put to rest with a glare from their fearless leader. Aya was doubtlessly attempting to conduct the meeting with as much dignity and as little bloodshed as possible. 

"If Manx is unavailable, why not have Birman serve the missions, or at least oversee the…introduction." He settled on the word with a slow frown. 

"Kritiker feels that Weiss might have developed too personal a relationship with both agents Manx and Birman. We feared it may…interfere…with how prospective jobs are received."

"Hey, our relationships never got personal." Youji defended with a loose smirk. "Not for lack of trying on my part." Aya pinched his thigh, causing the blonde to slide off his perch on the armchair and into the redhead's lap. 

"Erm." The pair shifted, uncomfortable with the undivided attention they received. Finding a solution, Aya shoved Youji unceremoniously onto the floor. He landed with an off and a muttered "jerk". Aya pinched the playboy with his toes in retribution. Youji trapped the bare foot under his arm, securing his prize with a cheek on his calf. 

The rooms other four occupants watched the impromptu wrestling match with mixed feelings. 

"Well," Tonkinese rose after the match was decided. "I will be along in a few days with your first mission." He patted his stomach soothingly, bowing to Weiss. 

"Play nice." Ken added the unspoken command at the retreating sound of footsteps. 

"Yeah," The others agreed. "Right."

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A/N (5): This story is rather open to suggestions, although I do have a goal in mind, I'm open to comments on how I should get there! Y'know, basic missions and the like. Thank you to everyone who's read. Please review!

For those of you who care, Akai's name means Red Wildflower. Tonkinese is a mix of Burmese and Siamese. Angora is as mentioned, a Turkish breed with long silky hair. Purrrrrrrrdy. * Squelch * Ooh…that was a bad, bad, bad pun, even for me. 


	2. The Entertainment Value of Fresh Blood

****

Blooded Petals

By Eternitys End

Normal disclaimers apply: I do not, nor do I claim to, hold any ownership over Weiss Kreuz or any of its parts. More's the pity.

A/N (1): Reviews are much appreciated, whether here or directly to me at _EternitysEnd @ eternitysend. cjb. net. I also encourage anyone to check out my website at http:// eternitysend. cjb. net. (Minus the spacing of course) Any and all submissions are welcome!_

Chapter Two: The Entertainment Value of Fresh Blood

"Well," Omi glanced about the room, pulling nervously at the thick carpeting between his fingers. "I'm Omi Tsukiyono, this is Ken…" Omi paused mid-sentence when Akai made a motion to desist.

"I know who you are." He gestured to each man in turn. "Kritiker keeps their agents sufficiently informed." 

"Kritiker gave you the files?" Aya straightened, his heel pressing painfully into Youji's side. "I was led to believe that information was classified." His jaw was clenched, betraying his true feelings. There were things a man kept to himself, and Aya was not pleased about having his life story spread out that anyone might see. 

"Such information is kept in the strictest of confidences, I assure you." The young man before them stood stalk straight, speaking as if he were reciting from a book. "Kritiker is…" 

"Yeah, yeah, Kritiker sure is!" Ken agreed wholeheartedly with a sneer. He leapt up from his crouch beside Omi, his hands fisting at his side. "If you're done stuffing us with all this pro-Kritiker shit, I'd just as soon be excused, sir." With a mocking salute, he took the stairs at an easy lope. 

"Sorry about him." Omi apologized hastily, all to happy to have an excuse to leave. He hopped up the stairs after his boyfriend, leaving to both chastise and console the man. 

"It's been great! Really it has, Private, but it's getting late and I really should be off to…" Following suit, Youji attempted to rise and leave. The heel in his side was suddenly in his lap, Aya's calf securing him in his seat. "Ay~aa!" He whined, making no attempt to disguise his displeasure in front of their guest. "Let me go!" He pushed at his leg, but succeeded only in having the foot hover menacingly above sacred grounds. 

"Sit." Aya's was cool and commanding. "We're not done here." 

"I know _we're_ not done here." Youji quickly switched tactics. "But, really, Aya, in front of a guest?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, whether attempting to embarrass or seduce his way to freedom, one couldn't be sure. Nevertheless, he failed miserably. Firm pressure was exerted through the heel. The lanky blonde writhed and wiggled in misery. "You're only hurting yourself, Aya." He mumbled none too convincingly. 

"I wasn't aware there was much to hurt." Aya taunted. 

"Achem." Their unfinished business cleared his throat, reestablishing his presence. 

"You will be using our cover?" Aya's attention returned, the redhead was all business. Youji squirmed beneath him. 

"It has already been arranged." Akai agreed, his attention carefully focused on Aya's face, rather than the blonde who was plucking at perfectly rounded toenails. 

"You have previous experience?" Aya cocked his head to the side, attempting to subtly shake Youji off his foot. Accidentally kicked in the stomach, Youji 'oof'-ed and turned to scowl at his teammate. 

"You did that on purpose!" He accused before being seated again by the heavy foot. 

"I am a most able agent." Both men were carefully ignoring the blonde. "As for the flowers, I'm sure I'll pick it up quickly." His low, smooth tone leaked overconfidence. 

"The shop opens at 10 tomorrow. Be there a half hour early." Aya ordered sharply. "You have a place to stay." It was a statement more than a question. 

Taking the words as a dismissal, the young man gave a nod of acknowledgement before disappearing up the stairs. Only the slight flare of his nostrils betrayed his outlook on the situation. 

"I don't like him." Youji muttered, massaging the bare foot in his lap. 

"You don't have to like him." Aya retorted, lazing back in his chair to enjoy the attentions, at least for a little bit. 

"But I don't trust him." Youji countered. "If I'm going to depend on him during a mission, I need to trust him." 

"You just have to wait. Did I automatically earn your trust?" Aya idly brushed his fingers through chestnut silk. 

Youji traced the blue veins with the barest hint of a smile. "I've _always_ lusted after you." He misinterpreted purposefully. 

"I said trust." Aya jerked his foot away, frowning at the lost sensation.

"'Course I trusted you." Youji lolled his head back in Aya's lap to smile lazily. 

"You're an idiot." The younger man jerked to his feet, bumping the blonde in the process. 

"I've got good instincts." He murmured in protest. Staggering to his feet, he used Aya for support. 

"I'm sure you do." Aya frowned as long-fingered hands drifted off course. Feigning ignorance, he bent to gather the remains of their dinner, stacking cups and crumpling wrappers. The movement proved to be a mistake, as overeager hands made use of his prone position. "You're insatiable!" He accused, suddenly angry, as he batted away his hands. 

"You don't even know if I'm insatiable!" Youji growled back, following the redhead as he stalked up the steps. "Maybe I wouldn't be if you at least _made_ attempt to sate me!" He grumbled, following the shorter man closely, his hands in the air for emphasis. 

"You get sated enough, without me sating you!" Aya whipped around, his chin in the air to glare up. Even as the words tumbled out of his mouth, he realized how absurd he must sound. "Now go to bed!" He roared. 

"I'm not tired!" Youji lunged for his keys, set on the counter by the door. A hand restrained him on his shoulder.

  
"You're going to bed. _And_ you're not drinking." Aya's voice was lowered, suddenly reasonable. "I don't want you to get in anymore trouble with Kritiker than we're already in." 

"I didn't know you cared." Youji sneered, dropping his keys. He jerked his shoulder free. 

"I care about our team. No doubt Nobaria's here as a plant. Don't give him anything to report." He met Youji's glare evenly, watching as emerald eyes squinted with hurt.

"Fine. I'm going." Youji pounded up the steps, snatching a pack of cigarettes on his way.

"Goodnight." Aya told the door as it slammed. "Goodnight, Omi." Aya turned to meet their youngest member's worried gaze. The short blonde cracked his door farther, stepping out into the hall. Ken's chainsaw of a snore floated out with him, and Omi shut the door so as not to wake him. 

"Are you guys alright?" The boy inquired, pressing two fingers just above his breastplate in an oddly soothing gesture.

"We're fine." Aya murmured. "Goodnight, Omi." He said again, before disappearing into his room down the hall. He was irritated and confused, and oddly pleased that Youji honored his request to stay in, but they really were fine. 

"Really, Gran! He just ordered me out of there, like he had the right! And I swear Kudou, that's Balinese, must have some sort of foot fetish!" Akai paced, clutching the hotel phone to his ear, winding the cord around him with each turn. "What is this! Are these really Kritiker's best and brightest? There must be some kind of mistake!" He was awarded with appreciative tutting on the other side of the line. "They're complete morons! Just a bunch of pretty boys that can throw around lethal toys! Plus," He confided his worries in a lower hiss, "they're gay! 

I don't want to stay with them, what if they come after me? I really don't want these people watching my back." He trailed off with a whimper.

"Now calm down, sweetums, just take a deep breath, there you go." The gravelly voice of the woman known as Gran crackled through the bad connection. "You'll do wonderfully, I'm sure of it. You always make me proud, that's why I chose you for the position." She tutted and soothed, plumping her agent's ego with practiced ease. "And you know better than to judge a book by its cover. I know a certain little boy who _many_ people underestimated, don't I? They really are very good at what they do. Very professional on the job. In all these years, they've only failed once. And they've survived some _very_ trying situations." Akai's full lips were pressed into a pout, he not daring interrupt the old woman. "You should be proud to be part of the infamous White." 

"They don't trust me! This won't work. What if they peak at me in the shower!" Real and irrational fears intermingled. 

"Really, sweetums! Be a little open-minded. And you're _very_ trustworthy! They'd be fools not love you, just as you are!" He could almost hear her leathery skin as she rubbed her hands as was her habit. "Now why don't you have some of that lovely tea I sent you, the one in the little brown with the blue ribbon, it'll let you get a good night's sleep, that's my boy. You leave all this worrying to my Tadashi. He'll take care of everything, you just play your part.

"You said you were meeting them tomorrow?" She inquired finally. 

"Yeah, nine thirty." He answered sulkily. "They're _florists_. _Gay florist assassins_, Gran!" 

"I always did love Ikebana." The old woman mumbled, ignoring his rants. "I really must start again. Do you think next time you visit you might bring me some flowers from your lovely shop?" 

"I don't work there, Gran! It's a front! If everything goes right I won't _be_ there long enough to bring you any damn flowers!"

"Yes, yes, it will be lovely, I'm sure. I especially love baby's breath. So dainty they are! A daffodil, or maybe a carnation, submerged in baby's breath. But I must be rambling, I am, aren't I? You just have some of that tea and get some rest. I want to hear all about your new friends tomorrow. Ta!" Akai stared at the receiver as the line went dead.

"They're _not_ my friends. And even if I did make a damn arrangement, I'm sure as hell not visiting you." He informed the phone rebelliously. After another long moment he slammed the receiver into its cradle.

"Meow! Meow! Meow! Meo~crunch!" Youji inspected the remains of his alarm clock with sleepy eyes. The thing was flattened, and his hand was rapidly swelling from hitting the pointy metal ears. He shrugged, settling back in his pillows. It was no great loss. Omi had bought it for him the Christmas past. It had lasted a half-month, the expected lifetime of anything that attempted to wake him up. Letting his eyes droop, he basked in the knowledge that he had an excuse for being late, at least until his birthday, when, doubtlessly, he'd be gifted with another tacky clock. 

"Get up, Youji! Aya will skin you alive if you're not there before the new guy!" Ken burst through the door, glaring at the pile of blankets with limbs before the mess on his bedside table caught his interest. "Wow, poor Kitty." He stared in awe at the pile of bent metal, gears and cogs. As if too put on a show, a spring chose that moment to loose itself, propelling said Kitty's muzzle a half foot in the air. Ken applauded appreciatively. 

"Will you get out!" Youji roared, bolting upright in a flurry of fabric. 

"Going!" Ken trailed off, only to be replaced by Omi a moment later.

"Oh no! The alarm clock!" He rushed into the room to inspect the damage, picking up the head rolling around the floor. 

"Relax, relax. It's just a clock." Youji edged him away from the heap. 

"Of course it is." Omi smiled cheerily. "I saved the warranty!" He skipped out of the room, the very picture of innocence.

Youji grabbed the head and heaved it at the wall. "It is morning! I am awake! And the hour hasn't even reached double digits!" He shouted the indignity. "Will everyone please, leave me alone!" Aya walked straight by, an eyebrow raised and his expression guarded. "Great!" Youji moaned.

"Friday's and Saturday's are the worst." Omi started on his tour, leading Akai through the shop with a guarded smile. "Along with Monday's when guys have to apologize for being a jerk over the weekend." He laughed weakly, Akai forced a small smile as was expected. "We don't do many organized events. Unless, of course, we're, you know…" He glanced around the empty shop to see if anyone was listening, despite the fact that they had yet to open. Aya was setting out plants with Ken as Youji stocked the register with small bills for change. "We mostly depend on small frivolous purchases and our daily deliveries. We do stock a few restaurants weekly." He shrugged helplessly. "We close unexpectedly, a lot of the time we're in the red."

Aya turned to glare at the pair. "But we manage to pull through. Kritiker covers our losses, but we've learned to manage pretty well on our own." Omi granted quickly. "You've probably seen the small greenhouse out back, but mostly we order from wholesalers. Ken tends to take care of the growing stuff and Youji's glued to his chair by the cash register…"

"Hey!"

"Aya does displays, the book keeping, and cares for the cuttings. I tend to work the floor." He grew more and more comfortable talking the short brunette, accustomed to Aya's long periods of silence. "We'll start you off doing basic stuff, working the floor, watering flowers. We all do arrangements, and you can try some if you want to, but we won't expect you to do much this early in your career."

"Right." Akai stood perfectly still, awkward, and fitting in with the flowers more than the people. Ken put him out of his misery by thrusting a broom into his hands. 

"Sweep." He said in a tight voice contradicting his normal demeanor. "It always needs done around here." He elaborated more lightly after being glared at by his young lover.

Akai took the broom and began to sweep in small, strong strokes. The shop settled into awkward silence as the five prepped for opening. 

At ten o'clock they rolled the up the aluminum gate and opened their doors to the world. They then settled back into awkward silence, serving few customers throughout the day. 

"You really make a business this way?" Akai asked after a sparse lunch crowd, if the three purchases really could be considered such. 

"Just wait." Ken murmured cryptically. "Two thirty comes around, you'll definitely be feeling different."

"Ah, their going to be so excited about fresh blood!" Youji cheered quietly, ending with an unsettling giggle. 

"Oh my God!"

  
"Do _you_ work here now!" 

"I can't believe it! They're almost too much!"  


"Wait, wait! I have my camera! Can I have a picture with you! I have all the others!" 

"Look at those lips!" One girl sighed appreciatively. "And those eyes! So dark!"

"Tall, dark, and handsome. He's so much darker than the others!" A girl fluttered.

"He's only tall to you, Kimi, because you're so short!" Her friend countered. "He can't be more than five-six. And that's _with_ those _boots._" It was clear Akai hadn't won over _every_ fan-clubber, but he was far from ignored. 

"He's built to…" One of the braver females noted, poking and pinching here and there. "You work out?" She inquired. Akai opened his mouth, tripping over his oversized boots in an attempt to retreat. 

"Maa, maa, girls. Are we forgetting why we're here?" Youji redirected their attentions, his arms spread as he stepped out from behind the island.

"Youji! Of course we're not forgetting you!" He was nearly tackled as a portion of the girls separated from the pack. Adeptly, he maneuvered them towards the refrigerated display cases where he could make pointed suggestions. 

"Omi! Ken! Aya!" The respective clubs divided, swarming their idols. A fair portion of the girls remained with the newest florist. 

"What's your name?" Akai was glanced uncertainly between girls, squirming away from one adoring touch only to fall into another. 

"What's your favorite flower."

"I want to know your favorite color."

"Blood type!"

  
"Sign!" They shot demands at him without giving him time to answer.

"Akai! We could use you in the back!" Omi pointed to the door marked Personnel Only. The man practically leapt for it, raising his opinion of Omi substantially. 

"Akai!" 

"Sexy!"

  
"Don't be long!"

"We'll be here when you get back!" Dashing through the door, the young brunette sank down on the floor, appreciating the quiet. 

"We love you, Akai!" He groaned, his nostrils flaring. He hated this job.

"Did you see it! We love you, Akai! The guy was scared shitless." Youji chuckled appreciatively, clutching the long stem of his beer bottle. 

"We were all like that in the beginning." Omi defended quickly. "They are overwhelming."

"Well, all but you, Yotan." Ken teased.

"I feel kind of bad for him." Omi pouted. "He seemed to really hate the attention."

"Aw, come on, even Aya got used to it." Youji countered. "And you can't get any more…" Noticing Aya's glare, he stumbled and righted himself. "Of a kind, friendly, _forgiving_ guy than Aya…" He smiled weakly, wincing when the redhead took a menacing step forward. "Sorry!" He squeaked. Aya grumbled as he took a seat beside him. 

"Awful, Gran, awful. Why couldn't I have been put on another team?" Akai listened intently, pacing the familiar stretch of his room. "I don't care if they're the only lethal division. Make Tadashi make a new one!…No…no…I don't care about experience!…Fine!" He glared at the receiver before placing it back to his ear. "I am _not_ moving in there…Yes I said Omi wasn't that bad, but the others…No, Gran…Yes, Gran…Right…Yes, bye." He hung up the phone with a growl. "Hag." 

With a particularly strong scowl, the boy began throwing things haphazardly into a duffel bag. Five minutes later he was ready to go. Slinging the bag over one shoulder, he lifted a briefcase, taking great care with this package. 

Making his way into the parking garage, he threw the bag into the back seat of the fully equipped Hummer. Before setting off, he carefully arranged the case, double and triple checking so it wouldn't slide. 

"So we're really going to do this?" Youji fidgeted with a lit cigarette, oblivious to the normally calming affects of nicotine. "Do we have a fire extinguisher?" He asked the redhead beside him, looking equally ill at ease. He patted the red cylinder at his side, reading the tag on the instructions over and over again. 

"I'm so glad you put such stock in my cooking skills." Ken grunted from in front of the stove.

  
"We're just cautious." His boyfriend reminded him from the table, memorizing the simple recipe so he could point out mistakes along the way. "Last time, I had to replace the curtains after your night to cook. And that ugly mark ion the counter is from when you decided to make grilled cheese in the toaster." 

"I learned my lesson!" The brunette sighed, turning on the heat and flipping the breasts onto the oiled frying pan. "No oils and fats in the toaster, now will you get off my case about it!" The pan began to smoke; Omi wisely bit his tongue. "Don't forget, you're making five." 

"Yeah, yeah, five lemon and herb chicken, coming up. Wait, why five?" He did a mental recount. "These things are pretty big, I don't think anyone's going to eat two."

"Akai's moving his stuff in tonight, I want to have enough incase he's here for dinner." Omi replied obviously.

  
"He's moving in?"

"Didn't he tell you? He told me…" Omi shrugged. "I thought we could give him your old room. You don't use it." He pointed out to his lover. 

"I…but…I _do_ use it. It's _my _room!" He scowled, turning on the boy, hands on hips. "You can't go giving away my things like that. It's _my_ decision, not yours. All my stuff is in that room!" He ranted, ignoring the sizzling as it got louder. 

Youji widened his eyes, as if staring at the leaping flames would make them go out. Aya stepped forward and shoved the man out of the way. "If you're not going to pay attention to it, turn the heat down!" He ordered, turning the flame to low and attempting flipping the patties. He scraped at them with a spatula, scowling as they refused to budge. Eventually they flipped free, blackened where the oil had burnt and caked. 

"I am not eating that." Youji leaned over his shoulder, scraping at the dark coating with a fingernail. 

"You don't use it, and having a fifth roommate will lower everyone's rent." Omi was standing now, prodding his boyfriend with a finger. "All your stuff is in my room anyway. Would you rather I gave him my room?" Ken opened his mouth to comment, but Omi snapped it shut for him. "No, you wouldn't. Your room would hardly fit the bed, let alone my computer and all your crap!" His lower lip jutted out farther and farther in emphasis. "And now you ruined our dinner!" He accused, finally noticing Aya's attempts to salvage the chicken. 

"It's not ruined, I hardly left it." Ken muttered, joining Youji in his scratching. "See, comes right off!" He showed first his finger, then the stretch of pink meat he'd unveiled.

"Its not cooked all the way through." Aya countered. "By the time its done, it will be ruined." 

"Let's go out!" Youji cheered, grabbing at his keys and Ken's back pocket. "Ken-ken will pay, since he ruined our dinner." Deft fingers stole inside the pocket and retrieved the boy's wallet. Flipping it open, he scowled at the contents. "You don't keep enough cash on you," Youji protested, flipping through the bills.

"Gimme that!" The soccer player snatched the money and its holder back, stuffing the contents into his pocket. "We'll go out, but _I'm_ not paying. It's Omi's fault too!" He pointed an accusing finger. 

"We should really wait here for Akai." Omi argued. "I told him he could move into your room, so you should move out your stuff first." Ken opened his mouth to protest once more. "If we're going to go out, you'll won't want him going through your stuff when you're gone." Ken loped up the stairs; giving the boy a pointed 'this isn't over'-look. 

__

A/N (2): Thank you to anyone who reads and reviews.

-Misura: You got it in one! ^^

-Anime the Fallen Angel: Sorry if I don't always make much sense, I hope there's more Omi and Ken now to your liking.

THANK YOU!


	3. The Reasonable Personification of Lethal...

****

Blooded Petals

By Eternitys End

Normal disclaimers apply: I do not, nor do I claim to, hold any ownership over Weiss Kreuz or any of its parts. More's the pity.

A/N (1): Reviews are much appreciated, whether here or directly to me at _EternitysEnd @ eternitysend. cjb. net. I also encourage anyone to check out my website at http:// eternitysend. cjb. net. (Minus the spacing of course) Any and all submissions are welcome!_

Chapter Three: The Reasonable Personification of a Lethal Weapons

"Ah, that was nice."

"I'm so I talked you into this."

"But we better pay and get back, we don't want Akai-san to think we abandoned him."

"Or to have him snooping through our stuff while we're gone."

"Ah, he doesn't strike me as the type to go looking for trouble. All that military training made him stiffer than Aya, I'd bet." 

"Excuse me?" 

"Ma, ma! Relax, stiff is good, stiff can be nice." 

  
"Do you want coffee?" 

Akai slammed his bag down on the neatly made up twin, scowling at the spic and span room around him. This had been the soccer player's old room, for some reason, the guy didn't strike him as the tidy type. 

Running a hand over the dresser, he grimaced at the recently washed-waxy feel. Omi, probably. He kind of liked the kid. It was a shame he was pegged with such morons. He felt almost sympathetic, guilty that he was leading him on like this. But it really couldn't be helped. And he had no qualms about using the other three oafs. They'd stood by and laughed at him in the shop today. Anger simmered inside him. 

With a wrench, the zipper of his tote slid free, and Akai began tossing the contents into the open drawer. Realizing he was slightly out of control, and how Gran would skin him if she ever found out, he glanced at his briefcase by the open drawer. Oddly, the sight of the smooth polished leather reassured him. That, and the knowledge of its contents. _Soon._

He hadn't always been like this, so unbalanced, carefully teetering on the edge, with no telling when he'd slip. Or, at least, he didn't think he had. But that was a long time ago. He'd been nothing but a child. Now he thrived off of the pent up frustration. He relished the few times he was allowed to let go. Taking deep breaths, he fell back on a military calm, sorting out his thoughts. All that would come later, for now he needed to take his place as a Weiss agent. He needed to settle so he'd be more effective in his placement. 

He finished unpacking mechanically, his gaze always returning to the fine black case. _Soon_, was his mantra. He only had to put up with this lunacy for so long. They would be a help, not a hindrance, in the missions to come. He was only here to monitor their suspicions. _And to kill._ The little voice in the back of his head snickered. He'd be able to sate the bloodlust soon. _Soon._

"Refills, coffee, dessert?" The waitress offered with a glance around the table. When they'd first arrived, she'd attempted plying them with her not-insubstantial charm. But despite the blonde's eager response to trading flirts, she'd quickly learned her attempts were futile. On the one side of the booth, the small blonde was cuddled up beside the brunette, sharing bites and whispering sweet nothings, or something along those lines. The other pair, across from them, seethed and bickered, barely restraining the snarls like only familiar couples could. So, accepting her defeat, she retreated to the sidelines, watching and discussing the intricacies of their relationships with her friend Nancy.

Joining her friend after dropping the check, they crouched low and watched with amusement the impromptu tug-o-war between blonde and redhead. And although billing fights were fairly commonplace, usually between parent and grandparent or a group of old men, all wanting to foot the damn thing, red and blonde didn't go through the typical offers. 

"He ruined dinner, he should pay!" Blonde announced loudly, pointing an accusing finger, color rose in brunette's cheeks as he sank low in his chair. 

"Dinner wouldn't cost this much. We go Dutch." Red was no-nonsense, careful to keep his tone and glare level. But although he appeared dominant in the relationship, the blonde seemed quite adept at whining his case. 

"My money's on red." Nancy whispered to their server, Cleao.

"I really think the blonde might make it." Cleao pointed out. "Red's short tempered. He'll give in just to shut him up." The girls watched solemnly. "Its funny that the brunette doesn't jump in, I mean, he has an obvious interest in the outcome." 

"Five dollars on the stricken short one finding a solution. He offers to pay, the others feel bad. Brunette and tall blonde go half-sies, red handles the tip." The voice came from behind them. The girls spun to find Tom, incredulous. 

"No way." They argued. "You're so on!" 

"And its five _each._" Cleao hissed. The trio watched with rabid interest. 

"No…" Nancy trailed off as the petite blonde interceded, unshed tears welling in his baby blues. "You set that up." She murmured in awe. After a hushed conversation, blonde and brunette appeared to split the bill. Red, incensed, threw down a tip and the four rose to leave. 

"I didn't set it up." Tom grinned, slinging an arm around Nancy as Cleao scurried over to the payment. "See what I do for you?" He murmured into her neck. Confused, Nancy shrugged him off. 

"What?" She squeaked. He pointed to the four as they shrugged on their coats. 

"See what I do for you?" The tall blonde was heard to say, slinging an arm around red. 

"No. I don't see." The redhead grumbled, shrugging him off. But as they were leaving, he slid his hand into the blonde's, giving his boyfriend the briefest of smiles. The door swung shut behind them and the waitresses turned toward their bus boy. 

Shrugging, he said, "What, they come here every time dinner's ruined." 

"Mou! Its so late. Akai-san probably thinks we've abandoned him." Omi moaned as they made their way to the car. Wrapped in Ken's safe embrace he was well protected from the winter chill and his boyfriend was listening diligently, despite the fact that he didn't have much to say. It couldn't get much better.

"How come its Akai-san and not Akai-kun?" Ken snuggled closer. "And he _is_ younger than you. Well, unless you count the number of birthdays as opposed to the number of months and years…" He trailed off frowning. "You turn five next year!" He teased, before turning back to his frown. "Oh." He murmured, looking pleased with himself. "He's younger than you." He looked like the cat who not only ate the canary, but had just arranged for fresh canaries to be delivered to his doorstep daily at now extra cost. "Akai-chan." He snickered evilly. "Akachan." He laughed out right. "That is _so_ great." 

Omi frowned at him, attempting to hide his amusement. "Ken, you're just mean." 

Akai scowled in the mirror, displeased to see how he could just barely see his face. He wasn't _that_ short. But having toed off his shoes a moment ago, he was faced with this new problem. He couldn't even see his chin. The fact that the mirror was angled slightly upward didn't help matters. With a frustrated huff, he flung himself back onto the bed. And that was a mistake. He'd forgotten about the empty duffel. He dragged it out from under his lower back, tossing it on the floor beside him. His gaze automatically locked on the one sight that was guaranteed to soothe him. 

He should find somewhere to put it. They probably had a safe somewhere to keep weapons that would be suspicious to innocent eyes. Not that he couldn't deal with them in his own way. But Gran would be mad. And that would not be good. Not yet, at least. 

The door swung open downstairs, catching his attention. Weiss was home. The note in the kitchen had said they'd gone to dinner. With a long-suffering sigh, he swung himself off the bed. It wasn't that bad, kind of comfy really. He could live with it, even if that soccer player had slept on it. And who knows what else. Straightening his posture and toeing into his boots, he arranged himself in what he'd begun to think of as the Angora persona. Calm, detached, efficient. And if he came off as a bitter jerk, that was just fine by him. They had to deal with him, not like him. 

Picking up his briefcase at the door, he descended the stairs to confront them. "He's wearing shoes in the house!" Ken accused, always ready to point out his flaws. 

  
"He didn't know." Omi tutted at his elder. He turned to address the other brunette. "We like to keep our shoes downstairs, they're fine in the kitchen, because there always seems to be potting soil around on the first floor and you get really dirty socks." He pulled at Ken's pant leg, as the man had already gotten rid of his sneakers. His sock bottoms had already acquired a brown tinge. "It keeps the floor cleaner if you'll just leave them by the stairs." He pointed out haphazard pile of boots and shoes in an open closet. "No one will steal them." He reassured with an easy smile. 

"Right." Akai glanced from his boots to the men around him. He was reluctant to take them off in their company. The army issued footwear had hidden inserts, allowing him to appear a good deal taller than her really was. They'd tease, and doubtlessly peg him with a Napoleon complex. He couldn't deal with that right now. Taking a deep breath, he glanced down at the case in his hands. "Do you have a vault or safe somewhere?" He aimed his request at Omi, who jumped to his feet and padded down the stairs to the mission room. 

"I'd suggest keeping money and valuables in the bank," The others, curious, had followed them down. "But if your talking weapons." Omi cocked his head at the case. "This is the safest place for them. Pulling out a key ring and spinning the dial on the big gray cube, the door swung open. 

"We'll get you a key and the code is 9-34-77. Weiss on a touch tone phone." Omi and Youji made noises of objection. Aya looked disapproving. "Oh its not like we have valuables in here."

"No, just lethal weapons." Youji sniped. 

"But I guess I'd rather keep whatever that is," Ken gestured to the briefcase. "Locked away if I can't keep my bugnucks out all the time."

"You're going to have to take it out of the box. And it would be helpful if we knew what you used." Everyone craned their necks to get a peak as Akai wordlessly set the case on the coffee table, opening it and carefully parting the overflowing silk inside. 

"He's going to smother people with silk." Youji slid behind Aya, using the excuse of seeing better to wrap his arms around his leader. 

"They're…" Aya trailed off, not sure what name to put to the wicked blades before them. "What exactly are they?" He asked, clearly intrigued.

Akai shrugged, petting the gleaming silver lovingly. "They don't really have a name. I had a friend who was a weapons designer. He called them scythes, but that's not quite appropriate." 

A hush fell over the room as they examined the shiny pair. Both question mark-shaped blades tapered down to a needle fine point, thicker around the bend with a suspiciously jagged underside. At the base of each looped what appeared to be a line of inch-thick silver rope, looped neatly in a swath of silk. Upon closer inspection, the rope appeared to be tiny slivers of metal, linked together chain mail style to create a strong, malleable rope. 

"Why are they different sized?" Aya asked, starting with specifics rather than a vague 'what do they do?' Akai stroked the weapons carefully, for once seemingly pleased to answer questions.

"The foot long," He indicated the larger, trailing a finger along the foremost bend. "Is pure power. I can't get as much distance as the six inch," He indicated the smaller, "But it sinks deeper, and at an angle, so when disengaged, it will rip out an entire chunk of flesh, as opposed to a simple puncture." He explained in avid detail what they could do, his expression excited, completely taken with the violent pieces before him. "The six inch, as I said, can go farther distances. That's why the line is longer. It can also be useful for grappling or reeling in a target. It won't kill as quickly, but it's useful nonetheless." 

"They're fishing hooks." Akai's startled glance met an even, purple gaze. "Kritiker allowed you to register these?" He held a distinct frown as he examined the precious toys of their newest member. "Put them away." He ordered briefly. "And find me their registration. Humans, even the ones we hunt, aren't on the same level as fish." And he walked off, trailing Youji behind him. 

"Wow, an entire paragraph, along with voicing an opinion!" Youji attempted humor as he followed the redhead up the stairs. Toeing off his shoes, he followed up another set. "Aya! I didn't know you had it in y…"

"Did you see those things?" Aya barely restrained a shutter. "He talked like they were his pride and joy. They aren't made for a clean, quick death." He wrapped his arms around the blonde's waist, pulling him down to sit on the bed with him. Youji startled, unused to Aya initiating anything. 

"I told you I didn't like him." Youji frowned, rubbing his chin over the shorter man's hair. "I _do_ have good instincts." Aya looked up at him, contained worry in his eyes. "He doesn't belong with us. He's cool and contained and perfectly trained, but he doesn't belong with us. With what we stand for. He _enjoys_ it. I thought the motto of Weiss was "Do what you have to, then torture yourself with the guilt of it." Once again, an attempt at humor failed.

"We don't know for sure that he enjoys it. The problem might not be him." Aya nuzzled the blonde's chin, feeling the slightest scratch of stubble. 

"What do you mean, of course he's the problem. He's the psycho with scythe-slash-fishing hooks!" Youji attempted to initiate a kiss, only to lose interest at Aya's next words.

"I'm saying that if Kritiker registered these things, we might have more to deal with than 'the psycho with the scythe-slash-fishing hooks." 

"You're saying that the new Persia, or maybe even the entirety of Kritiker, has gone bad?" Unconsciously, they drew together. 

"I knew that detective was in there somewhere." Aya complimented, looking up when he felt Youji stiffen.

"I do still have contacts…" Before the offer even left his mouth, Aya was shaking his head no. 

"We've always been monitored. Probably more so now than ever. Until we have more to go on than suspicions and instincts, we should go business as usual. Just keep your eyes open. And I want good, legitimate reasons to accept a mission." He stopped further protest by tilting his head up, initiating a long, tender kiss.

"Can you believe his nerve! All of them! I mean, Omi's still better than the rest, he's a lot nicer. But he still was looking at me funny. Who are _they_ to judge _me_?" Akai voiced his outrage very quietly, leaning against the glass of the phone booth down the street from the shop. "Shin!" He whined, louder.

"Don't _call_ me that." The familiar, arrogant bellow hissed through the phone. "And will you relax, you're just making them suspicious. I knew we shouldn't have let you take those damned fishing hooks." 

"Oh, shut up! What am I supposed to call you, _Tonkinese_? That'd be a _lot_ less suspicious. And you know I won't use anything else. They don't like being separated from me for long. As it is, I can't see them until Omi gets me a key. They'll be lonely. And the company in that safe is anything but good. I swear, that katana is _seriously_ depressed. When this is over, I'm liberating them." 

"For god's sake, Akai! Will you stop talking about them like their people! They're pieces of metal…"

"Silver."

"Fine, silver. They don't _have_ feelings! If one of the Weiss hears you talking like this, they'll do more than look at you funny! You're supposed to try to fit in!" 

"I do fit in! And jeez, Shin! Its not like they have _names_. You think I'm some sort of loon? I've got them eating out of my hand, trust me. They may not like me, and I sure as hell don't like them, but they haven't done anything and they won't. We're just 'adjusting' as Omi put it. They do it with all new people. But that won't stop us getting things done. The sooner I can prove myself in a mission, the sooner things will fall into place. You relax!" Realizing he was babbling, and not at all enforcing his claim of sanity, Akai stopped short. 

He heard the sigh, and brightened at the news that followed it. "Fine, fine. I'll be around tomorrow 'bout lunch. We've got a nice safe mission for you, those freelance girls that caused Gran so much trouble. You'll get them tomorrow night and earn that trust and approval you talk about so much. Now get back to the house before someone comes looking for you!" The line went dead and Akai stared at it a long moment before hanging up. A wicked smile, the curve of it uncannily resembling his precious blades, passed over his features. _Soon_ was about to become _now._

Youji awoke feeling warm and wonderful, an unusual feeling considering his distaste for cold, and how no matter how many blankets he piled on top of himself, the draft from his window always got to him. A particularly warm, slightly moist spot at the base of his ear led to greater understanding, and the strong arms wrapped around his waist confirmed his hopes. 

No matter if they were fully clothed and nothing went past a few agonizing kisses, and no matter that it was hours before he normally woke up, he was happy. Shifting awkwardly, Youji turned, trying to retain contact without waking the redhead beside him. Unbearably dark lashes flickered open, baring deep purple eyes, sleep hazed and confused. 

"Hey." Youji whispered softly, attempting to retain the moment, twining his arms around his lover. "Do you realize, this is the first time we've slept together." He smiled warmly, only to have the younger man wrench free of his arms, struggling to sit up.

"We didn't sleep together." He said, obviously cross. "We just…slept." He frowned, not pleased with his level of coherency this early in the morning. 

"That's what I said." Youji mumbled, not letting his boyfriend's mood ruin his own. "We slept. I liked it, we should do this again sometime." He maneuvered himself to splay across his lap, resembling a big, happy cat. 

"You killed my arm." Aya accused, flopping the arm he'd been laying on up and down in demonstration. "You're heavy." He pushed at the blonde on his lap. 

"I'm not heavy." Youji pouted. "And I will _not_ get a beer belly, or a receding hairline." He frowned, obviously still not over the implications of two days ago.

"You're not fat. Or balding." Aya reassured, running a hand naturally over the head in question. "You're perfectly fine." He found himself saying, and wondered briefly where it came from. 

"Uhmm," The sound was suspiciously like a purr. "Not quite perfect." He flattered. "I'm not you." He was promptly shoved from his makeshift chair. 

"Go get dressed." 

Youji glanced down at himself. "I am dressed."

"In clean clothes." Aya clarified. "We have to open shop." Youji pouted. 

"Its only seven. We've got _hours_ before we have to get ready." Aya frowned at the obvious lack of conscience. Didn't he know they had to have a proper breakfast, have the first displays ready, and be open, all by ten in the morning. "Oh, hush." Youji batted the redhead back onto the bed. "Don't even think those thoughts. They're evil." He slid his hands beneath the redheads shirt, loving the heat of his smooth skin. "We don't get up until after Omi." Youji murmured into his ear, darting his tongue out between words. "He makes coffee." His hands slid up, taking the shirt with him. 

The process was immediately put stopped, as Youji found himself on his back, beneath the redhead. "You have _no_ concept of responsibility. You're lazy beyond belief. And you find your way through life without any effort." Aya accused harshly before pillaging his mouth. "Do you have any idea how much I hate that?" He said more softly, coming up for air, then descending on the long stretch of tanned throat. 

"Mmmnoo." Youji drawled, enjoying the attention. "Why don't you show me." He wasn't really paying attention to what was being said, but the basic intonations seemed familiar to him. He fell easily into the flirt, deciding, by the reaction he'd achieved; that what he'd said was fitting. 

There was a knock on the door. Aya jerked upright, causing the air to woosh out of Youji's lungs. "Aya, you're heavy." He mumbled out, taking uncomfortable gulps of air. "We _can _just ignore it. They'll go away." He whispered, the redhead proceeded to ignore him. Youji made faces of distress from beneath him. 

"Aya, are you okay?" Omi inquired from the other side of the door.   


"Yes." Aya barely managed to contain the growl.

"Okay, it's just that you're normally up by now. I wanted to know if you were sick or something, incase I needed to wake Youji to cover for you." He murmured through the door, before beginning to retreat.

  
"I'll be out in a bit." Aya reassured, crawling off his blonde seat and raising an eyebrow at his over dramatic expressions of pain. Uncomfortable and disgruntled, Youji did his best in retaliation. Leaping for the door, he swung it open with a crash and pointed a finger as the little blonde spun in his tracks. 

"You, little bishonen, had better work on your timing." And he stalked down the hall to his own room, leaving Aya to deal with explanations.

The day went surprisingly well, Aya and Youji painstakingly hostile, Omi apologetic, Ken oblivious and Akai in a suspiciously good mood. They made a half-decent profit and it went on as such until about a quarter past noon.

It started going down hill the second that well polished shoe stepped in the door. The florists all froze; tension beginning to trickle into the atmosphere. The strain compounded geometrically the moment Tonkinese flipped the open sign to closed, without so much as a by your leave from the shopkeepers themselves. And when he descended the steps without an invitation, thick file folder tucked under his thicker arm, Ken had to be forcibly restrained. 

Silently, the five followed down the stairs.

"Well, boys, I supposed you've gotten to know each other by now." Tonkinese rumbled happily, patting at his stomach. "Don't suppose you'd be interested in a mission, now, would you?"

__

A/N (2): Once again, for those who care, Akachan means baby. I definitely have too much fun with wordplay. I hope everyone likes how the story is developing, and I'd be immensely grateful if you'd be so kind as to review.

A/N (3): Thank you to anyone who reads and reviews.

-tmelange, Juun, ShimmeryAngelStone, MissyIrene: Thanks!

-Misura: I spent way too much time in our local Hello Kitty shop. I hope you like the latest scenes.

-Anime the Fallen Angel: A bit more action for you, both romantically and plot-wise, and plenty more to come.

-Shay: I hope I've developed Akai a little more. He does have a reason for being there, but I don't want to give things away all at once. 

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!


	4. Modesty is Overrated

****

Blooded Petals

By Eternitys End

Normal disclaimers apply: I do not, nor do I claim to, hold any ownership over Weiss Kreuz or any of its parts. More's the pity.

Dedicated to Mother to cheer you up. Four delectable ducks and more!

__

A/N (1): Reviews are much appreciated, whether here or directly to me at EternitysEnd @ eternitysend. cjb. net. I also encourage anyone to check out my website at http:// eternitysend. cjb. net. (Minus the spacing of course) Any and all submissions are welcome!

A/N (2): I don't remember that I mentioned what day of the week it was anywhere in the story. Currently, it is the third evening in the story, and I'm making it a Thursday. Please tell me if I'm contradicting myself. 

Chapter Four: Modesty is Overrated

It was widely known that Youji Kudou had talented hands. Playfully, he'd been accused of having fast hands, busy hands, magic fingers, and a hypnotizing touch. Personally, he acknowledged one classification that fit him to a T. Youji Kudou had gypsy hands. And not only because of the magic he could weave with them. No, that was a combination of experience, talent, and knowledge of pressure points. He had hands that were always in motion. Busy hands, gypsy hands. 

Twirling, twisting, twining, looping, cutting, pulling, ripping and altogether fidgeting, he had hyperactive hands. While the rest of him stayed perfectly still, his hands were exploring, touching, manipulating. Playing with his hair, touching someone, smoking, and wielding a wire all gave his hands something to do. Out of sheer boredom he'd once taken up needlepoint. The fine stitching had been surprisingly satisfying, soothing. Not that he'd ever admit to it. 

No, he got enough shit around here without handing his teammates ammunition. Not that he really minded what they said. They were usually kidding, even if there was a ring of truth to what they said. Yes, it was bad enough that he, Youji Kudou, womanizer and playboy extraordinaire dressed provocatively, had a flamboyant 'touchy-feely' attitude, and a foolish amount of vanity. No one needed to know about his secret stash of colored floss, or the fact that he could weave friendship bracelets faster than the average ten year old girl. They'd never know.

And there wasn't anything wrong with it. It wasn't like what they said bothered him. "It really isn't surprising." He'd overheard Ken and Omi. "I mean, if you get rid of the girls, and just think about how he acts, it's pretty obvious." They'd nodded thoughtfully, speculating. "And he's probably tired of being the one in charge with a relationship. His history with women would discourage anyone. I think he really needs the chance to be taken care of. Aya's good for him."

What did they mean 'his history with women was discouraging'? Who were they to talk? And Aya didn't even take care of him (not that he wanted to be taken care of…). If anything, he took care of Aya. He paid for things and started things. Just because Aya was on top didn't automatically make _Youji_ the woman in the relationship. And they hadn't even _proven_ that part yet. It was just sort of assumed. And it wasn't _that_ big a deal. Did they see him making this big of a fuss over their relationship? No. But it's _so_ different when the man in question was a proclaimed lover of women. There wasn't even that much of a relationship to speculate on. Not when being courted by Aya the Prudent! 

And that was mean, not to mention off topic. What was he supposed to be doing anyway? He was all ready for their mission, and none of the others had even finished dressing! Well, Akai had, he supposed. But he didn't count, not since he was such a creep. He'd been floating around all day with this goofy smile on his face, like he _looked forward_ to the mission. Sick bastard. His instincts were right. And there he went off topic again. 

What was taking the others so long anyway? The clothes he'd lent them weren't_ that_ hard to put on. Well, maybe the shirt he'd lent Omi was. And no doubt Ken was distracted by it. All those tiny buckles, pulling together that tight black leather for a perfect fit on anyone. Maybe he should have insisted they dress in separate rooms. It wouldn't suit to be late for a mission. Especially one in such ideal locale. A club! Wasn't it great! Too bad it had to be for work though. And the targets were a pity. He always hated killing other assassins. It made him feel like a hypocrite. Not that they wouldn't do the same to him. And he really hated when the targets were women. But dark beasts were dark beasts. And what they were doing really was wrong…

Where the hell were they? He'd just go knock on Omi's door. Just to get them back on track. Ken would probably take back everything he'd ever said about his clothes. Just this afternoon, out of the goodness of his heart, he'd opened his wardrobe to them. And he'd selected appropriate attire for each of his teammates, after all, who knew club-wear better than him? But Ken just had to open his big mouth, ignorant of good taste and appropriate costume. And what do you think came out?

"Oh my God, Youji, you whore!"

He sure had a way with words. And he didn't really mean anything by it, he was sure. But still, it had kind of hurt his feelings. Sure, Omi's elbow had promptly connected with his lover's ribs, and Aya _had_ taken a threatening step forward. It had taken away a bit of the sting, knowing Aya was championing him. But it was kind of mean. And it hurt. Just a little bit. Surely Ken would take it back once he saw how appropriate everything was. 

At least Aya stood up for him. He was usually the first to condemn him. But he hadn't, this time. He really wasn't _all_ that much of a prude. Being prudent could be a good thing. He took things slow, carefully. He was just a romantic. Kind of a nice change for Youji. It wasn't all about sex. It wasn't about sex at all! Not yet, the stupid prude. But everything pointed to a long, lasting relationship. One with a partner strong enough not to die and leave him all alone…

Youji dropped the pen he'd been spinning. The instrument had been moving so fast, it flew across the room and hit the far door. The one Akai was behind. Insolent twerp had his _own_ clothes to wear. Well good! He didn't want to lend the brat anything. He'd ruin them for sure. And jeez, he was off topic. What had he been doing? Oh yes.

Lunging to his feet, Youji strolled down the hall, stopping to knock at Omi's door, well, now it would really be considered Omi and Ken's door. He was greeted with a muffled curse, the sound of something hitting the floor, laughter, then a mad scramble to unlock the door. _Veeeeeery entertaining._

"Youji—hi!" Omi flushed, peaking through the cracked door. "Ken and I were just trying to do up all these darned buckles. He blocked the door with his slim torso, gesturing at the twenty-four tiny buckles that marched up the front of the sleeveless shirt. "Really! There are so many. And they're so tiny. Not like the ones on the pants and those cuffs you gave me. They were near _impossible_. So stiff…" He babbled and stuttered over words, with the telling sound of Ken dressing on the otherside of the door. 

"The cuffs are on the floor." Youji pointed behind the boy at the bit of floor he could see. Lying in a heap were the thick leather cuffs, their well-oiled silver buckles lying open, leading him to believe Omi wasn't telling the whole truth. "They really are tough to get out of." Youji continued, Omi nodding along with pink cheeks. Especially if you link them together. Then they're _impossible_. You're stuck there until someone releases you." Omi nodded understandingly for a moment before realizing what he'd given away. The door promptly slammed in his face. 

A moment later it opened again. "Were you, by any chance, here for a reason?" Omi murmured, contrite. 

"Just trying to get you back on track." 

"Right." And it slammed again. 

The third time the door opened, Youji could barely conceal his amusement. This time, Ken stood in the doorway, clad in a pair of his own jeans, tight and red, that he claimed to have outgrown, and a fishnet top, bite marks clearly showing through the gaps around his collar. 

He bowed solemnly. "I take back everything I ever said." He mumbled. The door closed a final time.

The green had looked perfectly innocent just hanging there. It had long sleeves, and a high collar, made of a solid mint green silk. No holes, no ties, no buckles. Nice, simple, innocent. Well, that's what he'd _thought_ it would be. 

For all intents and purposes, it _should_ be modest. But the sleek sleeves cupped his arms, their cuffs oddly pointed, with strings that looped around his middle fingers like soft rings. And the high collar flared around his cheekbones, the cut and color emphasizing their delicate nature. And worst of all, the torso clung and skimmed. It was meant to cling to Youji's willowy frame. On him, every muscle was emphasized. He looked more provocative _with _the shirt on than _without._

No wonder Youji had not condemned his "modest" choice. And the pants were…well…the pants just were. Crushed velvet pants were tacky, weren't they? Especially if they clung so low and so tight that he couldn't wear anything under them. And the knowledge that Youji couldn't wear anything under them either didn't help much. This entire mission was skewed. He wouldn't attract _that_ much attention in his normal clothes would he? And he had to cover his hair with the ridiculous bucket hat. All their efforts were for naught if they failed to blend into the crowds and look natural. They had to lure the target out. But still, it _matched_ the _pants._ Where did Youji find these things?

At least he was fully clothed.

Aya walked out into the hall to find his boyfriend eye level with Ken's red clad ass. The fact that Youji was wielding a bare razor blade with a maniacal grin and Ken was whimpering, clutching Omi's hands in a white-knuckle grip didn't register at first. Thankfully, he managed to get control of himself quick enough. Lunging at a bare blade was _not_ something he would normally do. 

Watching them, the situation was actually humorous, to a degree. Youji was fraying the jeans strategically, already having removed the waistband to show toned lower back. 

"You are _not_ coming around _front_ with that _thing_." Ken hissed vehemently.

Omi grinned, not minding his boyfriend's painful grip. "Mou! But Ken-kun, you're ass is just as important to me!" He made an attempt to pout but failed miserably. Youji chortled happily, cutting away happily. Suddenly, the crushed velvet didn't seem so bad. 

"Shouldn't we be moving out soon?" Aya suggested, Youji wheeled around to look at him. The huge grin promptly dropped from his face. Aya shifted uncomfortably. Didn't he approve? Youji tried valiantly not to drool. He lunged at the man, pinning him to the far wall in a tight embrace around the hips. 

Rubbing his cheek back and forth across the velvet, he complimented himself. "I am so great!" He cooed to himself. "I have such taste!" He looked up to meet Aya's eyes. The blood rushed to his head, and his face flamed as well. It took all his strength to pry Youji loose, and the blonde had the gall to laugh at him. 

Ken and Omi snickered at them as well, torn between cooing at how cute it was and roaring at the look on Aya's face. "You look very good." Youji reassured him in a husky voice and stood up. "Ken looks skanky and Omi looks kinky. You just look elegant." He leaned forward just enough to brush his nose over Aya's cheek.

Aya was left wondering what to say. Did protocol apply here? Where a compliment is exchanged for a compliment? Because Youji _did _look good. He looked _comfortable_ in the tight leopard print pants, and they would flare nicely over the shiny brown boots he had brought downstairs earlier. The shoes sported a chunky heel, but on Youji they looked anything but feminine. And the bronze, shimmery crop top somehow drew your eyes to the tattoo on his left shoulder, the wings of which he'd outlined in some form of glitter. Yet despite all the clinging and glitter, he looked perfectly at ease, as if he were born that way. 

But by the time Aya had taken in the entire view, and thought of a decent response, the moment was lost and Omi was moving down the hall to retrieve Akai.

Akai stared at the unfamiliar ceiling of his unfamiliar room, lying atop of the unfamiliar covers of an unfamiliar bed. He didn't let it bother him. Unfamiliarity was easy to ignore, because everything in his life was unfamiliar. He never was on the same assignment for long. 

He'd been in special opps. for longest, and he'd almost made himself comfortable there. But they'd discharged him, just when he was getting the hang of things. Sending him to Gran to hide their mistakes. They didn't want responsibility for having changed him. Especially since he was so young. He never should have been there in the first place. Everything led back to his bastard father. But the bastard was gone now. Just like he was. Tucked away somewhere, with no influence in his own life. 

With a deep sigh, he distracted himself, running over the mission specs for tonight. The targets were two women, assassins for hire who took out anyone for a price. So different from the Weiss agents, who hid behind the guises of morality and justice. He almost admired them. But, it wasn't his place to make an opinion, and to be honest, he looked forward to the deaths tonight. The women went by the names Tyranny and Dictate, strong willed, greedy, and forceful. And they were going to die tonight. Just the thought of it made him half-hard. And a tiny part of him hated that. He'd accused the others of perversion, while he was so much worse. 

The tinny voice of his conscience told him he was wrong, and wrong to be doing this, and that it was never to late to turn back. But logic intervened. He could never go back. He was his father's son. His memory flitted back to the last time he'd seen the bastard. It was at his trial. Before he was locked away for good.

The lawyer had told him to deny the charges. Akai was sixteen when he watched the man who sired him be tried for murder. And that's what the bastard had done. Denial, denial, denial. He could have gotten off Scot- free. They didn't have enough evidence, and his father had a hefty influence in the community. Colonel Nobaria wasn't a saint, but surely he wouldn't murder his own wife. 

Akai knew the truth. But he sure as hell wasn't going to step forward and say it. The man was a bastard, yes, but he wasn't stupid enough to force away the only living relative he had left. No one else would take in an introverted teenager with a personality that changed faster than Dr. Jekyl to Mr. Hyde. And he would not be another child lost to the system. He'd stay with his father, even if he had killed his mother. 

But the bastard didn't stick to the plan. He'd stood up in court that day, impatient and loudly proclaimed, "Let's just cut to the chase here, sir." He'd bowed to the judge, the jury, and the lawyers. "I killed my wife. It was not premeditated, but I also did _not_ do it in the heat of the moment. Why did I do it?" He'd shrugged his wide shoulders. "Frankly, I got off on it. She really made no difference in my life."

The courtroom had burst into chaos; his father had been dragged off to spend his life in jail. And Akai was left standing there, mouth agape, to be bombarded with reporters, do-gooders, and just plain busybodies. That was the moment he realized he had changed.

And he wasn't even left to the system. No, his father, generous man that he was, used what was left of his influence to enroll him in special opps. He'd be made a man yet, it would do him good. And it had, damn the bastard for being right. It had done him good, for a time. But he kept changing. And the undefined change revealed itself in his character. And they'd sold him to Gran because of it. The temper. The bloodlust. 

"Why'd I do it?" The words left his mouth, bringing him back to the present. He sat up, staring at the unfamiliar room around him. "Because I got off on it." From that moment on. He was his father's son.

"Akai-san! Its time to leave." Omi knocked politely on Akai's door before skidding down the steps. "Neon Gloss, that's the club the targets frequent, opens at eight. Its seven forty-five right now, and it's a half hour drive. The targets generally arrive after nine, so that should give us time to check things out." He called over his shoulder, pulling on his boots. 

Standing when Akai reached the bottom, he commented, "You're shorter than you appear, aren't you?" Omi looked faintly grateful that someone was shorter than he was. "Your boots help." He noted as Akai pulled them on with a scowl. "There's nothing wrong with being short." He reassured, realizing he might have insulted the younger boy. "And you might grow." Akai whipped upright to glare. "Sorry." He mumbled, ill at ease, before racing for the safety of the kitchen.

"We'll be taking two cars and a bike." Aya shepherded the group from the kitchen. "Should the targets be alerted to our presence, we'll want to be able to cover more ground." He wordlessly directed Akai to go with Youji, then indicated Omi should come with him. "The Porsche and Seven are more appropriate for the mission." He said by way of excuse to Akai. "Your Hummer attracts attention in a place like this. When there, we'll spread out to cover the entire club. Don't draw attention to yourself, we know what we're looking for.

"When you find it, alert the others _subtly_, and if possible, get the targets outside. Everyone knows the layout and their positions." It wasn't a question. "And default positions." Aya's give-me-no-shit speech was met with impatient nods. "Wait until someone else is within range before taking out a target. They are trained professionals, and given the chance, they will use it." 

Youji applauded sarcastically and the groups headed towards their transportation. Youji half listened as Omi commented about making contact with the target being unusual and Aya made the appropriate response. He slid into the driver's seat of the Super Seven, openly staring at Akai. He was under direct orders from fearless leader to "BEHAVE!" He couldn't guarantee results.

"Like the vest." Youji attempted honestly enough. He really shouldn't have worried about the kid. He had half-decent taste. The entire outfit was black vinyl, giving off a shine identical to his hair. The pants were simple, with a thick silver ringed belt cutting them high, ending just above his belly button. He wore the vest well, with no shirt, the open zipper tab was the only adornment, matching the belt. 

He'd been polite. He was behaving himself. He received a short nod in acknowledgement. He shouldn't have bothered. The entire rest of the trip passed in silence.

Akai sat in the passenger seat, silently complaining about the wind in his face, the obnoxious rumble of the engine, and his current company. He hated convertibles for a reason. A bug found itself darting off his cheek. 

And the company was the worst part. Balinese, Youji, was so obnoxious. Everything he said and did was condescending. He was a child to him. And an army stiff. And completely unwelcome in his eyes. Well, he felt the same way about him. Not that he was an army stiff or anything, but that he was childish and a _playboy_ and a _gay_ one at that. Uneasily, he glanced at the blonde, who seemed fully intent on his driving, a cigarette dangling from his lips. 

He wouldn't_ try_ anything on him, would he? He hadn't so far…but he _did_ compliment his vest, which meant he'd been staring at his chest, and suddenly he was _very_ uncomfortable, and not because he didn't like convertibles. He really wished he were allowed to ride with Omi. Even if he'd commented on his height. Omi, he was confident, he could handle. He didn't have that same confidence around Youji. He was demeaning, and overly dramatic, and tall and skinny. All black marks in his book. 

With a force of will, he thought about something else, feeling the heady rush of adrenaline that came before a job and didn't stop until hours later. But adrenaline was a natural aphrodisiac, and the last thing he wanted was the blonde beside him getting any _ideas_. And so the ride passed in awkward silence, both wishing each other out of the car.

"Hi!" Omi greeted his boyfriend in line for admission, acting as if they'd met up completely by accident. Ken rolled his eyes at the boy, tugging him into an all encompassing embrace, as if trying to make him invisible. 

"People are looking at you." Ken accused the blonde, tucking his nose in his hair. "Women _and _other guys." He looked up to meet even the most innocently curious gaze with a possessive glare. 

"They're just _looking_." Omi admonished him, "They _are_ allowed." He chuckled lightly at the face Ken made.

"They are _not_!" He acted as if the idea was unheard of, making another sweep of curious faces.

"Relax!" Omi coaxed, pushing away and gestured at the approaching pair. "Look, even Youji's looking." This time Aya joined the scowl. 

Youji ambeled along, his smile falling as he approached the group. "Why do I feel like I'm in trouble?"

Inside the club, the quintet spread as was planned. Time passed and Youji found himself conveniently near the bar, trying to persuade the buff, bald bartender to give him a free drink. Aya had tucked himself into a dark corner by the tables, able to watch the occupants without being seen, and Akai made a circuit of back hallways and less occupied areas. Omi and Ken had met up after their sweep of the upper deck, snuggling at the railing, Omi had a view of the entire club below, while Ken had a view of the upper level. 

"This looks promising." Youji could suddenly broke in on the com-link. 

"What are you talking about?" Ken hissed back.

"It means that he's found the target, you idiot!" Omi whispered, looking down on the crowd below and pretending to watch the dance floor nearest the bar. Ken turned to watch as well.

"What the hell is he doing? Does he realize how dangerous that is?" Aya growled, watching as Youji's shifting disconnected his microphone.

"I think he doesn't want any of us to hear him at work." Omi snickered before sobering, watching Youji slide up and in-between the two women in question. Long seconds of tense silence passed as they watched their teammate flirt shamelessly. 

"This is too easy. They're on to him." Aya interjected, Youji had a hand on each of the target's backs, directing them toward the door.

"Either that, or he really is as good as he always says he is." Ken added, sounding none too happy at learning it wasn't all bravado.

Youji brushed a hand through his hair, connecting the circuit long enough that they could hear. "I did come with a few friends, I'm sure they'd be happy to meet you." And Aya to hiss, "You are so dead," before it disconnected.

"Move to your positions." He ordered sullenly. "I don't want him dead before I get the chance to kill him."

Youji shifted awkwardly, well aware that he was in a dark alley outnumbered by the enemy. "Is there a reason we're just standing here?" Caly asked him. "I thought we were going to find your friends." He knew he should be a bit anxious given the situation, but so far their targets, who gave the names of Caly and Kira, really seemed completely unaware. He'd been around enough women to know when they were on to him. 

"This is where they said we'd meet at ten." He vented his frustration with half-truths. "I don't know what's keeping them." He was in position, with one arm around Kira's shoulders, the other tucked at the small of her back. One jerk and she was gone. What the hell was keeping them? He was pretty sure he could take them both out without doing much damage to himself, but he'd be bitched out by Aya for not waiting, and there was the chance that Caly was packing. She'd probably be able to get a shot in the time it took to suffocate. He really hated probability. 

So he was stuck here, making small talk with the enemy and feeling like more and more of a hypocrite as every second passed. "You were going to leave at ten?" Caly felt the need to be logical. She was in a snit because he had his arm around Kira and not her. This was _so_ not what he needed. 

"Would I be bragging if I said we were confident that was enough time to get what we wanted?" He recovered after a moment. He could only hope it was quick enough. Kira cocked her head at him. He was in trouble. _Shit_. 

But before he had the chance to judge if it was a false alarm, there was a short bark of laugher. Youji instinctively skirted to the side. A half-second later, something brushed by his arm, sinking with a wet sound into Kira stomach. He impulsively turned from the sight.

Cursing, and half-stunned, Youji leapt for the other woman, but she already had a gun. Her eyes, wide and glassy, flashed at him as she sunk a single shot in his arm. A second later, Akai's smaller curved blade melted into her lower back, wrapped around her spine. 

Turning away from the spray of blood and ignoring the stench of the freshly dead, Youji sank to his knees. One target was down, the other was going fast. And he could only wonder, what the hell had just happened.

Youji regained consciousness in his own bed, two pale bandages wrapped around his right bicep. He hadn't even been aware he'd passed out, but then, he supposed, maybe that was normal. Examining his body, he was grateful to note he didn't feel all that bad. The uppermost bandage squeezed a little to tight, and the area it covered was suspiciously numb in areas, but the lower one must have been nothing more than a scrape. It stung slightly, and burned when he moved, but all in all, there was no long term damage. He quickly reviewed the evening in his mind, cursing himself for not acting sooner, and Akai for taking out the target he'd already claimed. Assuming the upper bandage was the bullet wound, what the hell was the lower? 

He swung his legs out of bed, noting he was stripped to his boxers. Outside it was the half light of very early morning, but he had no real way of telling the time, given the mess of kitty clock in his trash basket. Sitting up quickly, he had nothing more than the slightest case of vertigo. With a grim grin and only half a wince, he stood, ready to address the most important issue around. Standing, he padded down the hall to bang on Aya's door. 

"Youji," Aya's door swung open almost immediately, introducing him to tired purple eyes. "It's early, you're up." He pointed out the obvious, not quite awake. "What the hell are you doing up? You should have called for me!" _Now_ he was awake. 

"Is the Seven okay?"

"You woke me up because you want to know about your car?" Aya wrinkled his nose, incredulous. "I had Omi drive it home. Its perfectly safe." He reassured once he saw that Youji was serious. 

"Can I see…"

"No, you can't see and make sure, it's four a.m. for God's sake. Go back to bed. Akai's covering your shift tomorrow so you won't have to get up." Youji sized him up, debating whether to trust his word. 

"Okay." Youji finally nodded, but instead of going back to his bed like he was asked, wrapped his good arm around Aya and stumbled back into the room. Falling onto the bed, he snuggled into the redhead's bare chest, sighing in contentment. 

"You do realize I'm upset with your behavior tonight." Aya mumbled into the top of his head, resigned to be a pillow.

"Oh, I know." Youji stretched like a cat, planting a tiny kiss against his pale torso. "I look forward to my punishment."

__

A/N (3): Please tell me if this chapter it too long to read comfortably, I'm thinking I should cut it in half.

A/N(4): Thank you to all who read and reviewed:

-tmelange: Thanks

-Misura: I hope you like this just as much. ^-^

-Mother of Cayne: I'm so sorry for the delay Mum! I had this chapter sitting here for days, but final revisions took forever!

-Brennend: A little insight into Akai. Not much, but it's a start! ^_^


	5. The Effects of Talking in Bed

Blooded Petals 

By Eternitys End

Normal disclaimers apply: I do not, nor do I claim to, hold any ownership over Weiss Kreuz or any of its parts. More's the pity.

_A/N (1): Reviews are much appreciated, whether here or directly to me at EternitysEnd @ eternitysend. cjb. net. I also encourage anyone to check out my website at http:// eternitysend. cjb. net. (Minus the spacing of course) Any and all submissions are welcome!_

_A/N (2): I don't remember that I mentioned what day of the week it was anywhere in the story.  Currently, it is the third evening in the story, and I'm making it a Thursday.  Please tell me if I'm contradicting myself. _

Chapter Five: The Effects of Talking in Bed

"I want a doctor!"  Youji squirmed on the bed, thrashing his legs and flailing his good arm.  Aya held the other in a death grip, his nails digging into the flesh of his forearm.  

"Stay still!"  

It had been two weeks since their first mission with Akai, and nothing much had changed.  There had been two more missions, in which things had been relatively uneventful.  Aya had forced Youji to be back up for both, and as such, made him ultimately useless.  Akai remained ruthless, rash, and eerily effective. The most exciting part of either mission was when Ken encountered someone with a hide thick enough to break his bugnuks.  He was using an older model until they were repaired.    
  


At the shop, things had settled down, Akai finding his place taking orders over the phone and restocking inventory.  His by the book demeanor helped keep them organized.  Grudgingly, even Ken would admit it.  They hadn't run out of baby's breath since he'd arrived.  

At home, but for a few scuffles regarding socks, a bumblebee, and the unfortunate demise of the can opener, they had settled into pleasant ignorance.  Akai chose to eat in his room, or go out on his own.  The others more than welcomed his absence.  

Five more mornings, Youji found himself waking beside Aya since he'd been shot.  He'd insist it was Aya's attempt at a slow seduction.  Aya would scowl and walk off, neither denying nor confirming Youji's hopeful accusations.

It hadn't taken much detective work to discover where the lower wound had come from.  Akai's over eager assassination had nearly taken Youji along with the targets.  Aya had taken his anger about the incident out on Akai in a ruthless practice session in the first week.  The others simply snickered behind his back, each having experienced the torture…err…training sessions at one point or another.  All in all, the time had passed normally.

Now, it was time for Youji's stitches to come out.

"I want a doctor!  I want a doctor!"

"I was good enough to put them in; I'm good enough to take them out."  Aya growled, wielding the tiny surgical scissors with efficient ease.  

"I was unconscious when you put them in! I'm conscious now!"  Youji flailed about again, wrenching Aya onto the bed and causing himself undue pain.  

  
"I can change that."  Aya threatened, pulling himself up with a menacing scowl.  Youji whimpered pathetically, curling himself around Aya with a repentant pout.

"I want a doctor."  He whimpered.

"I can be just as good as a doctor."  Aya reassured, brushing his fingers through chestnut locks.

"I can't sue you for malpractice if you mess up!"  He moaned solemnly.

"I won't mess up."  Aya promised, pulling his head back to look in his eyes.

"You don't know that."  Youji whimpered.  "I want morphine."  
  


"Isn't that a little overkill?  You don't need morphine.  You had a tattoo done in the same area on the other arm, it can't be that bad."  Youji shook his head against his stomach.  

"A tattoo's a little needle pushing ink _in.  Those are scissors pulling things _out_."  Youji stared at the two neat little lines of thread in his skin.  Craning his neck, he could see the stitches closing the exit wound.  "And I was probably father gone than I would be with morphine when I got it done."  He attempted to appeal to the red head with a small smile.  "You really won't consider taking me to the doctor?"  He pleaded one last time._

"No.  You can have some aspirin if it hurts afterwards, or you could get drunk, like you normally would do."  Youji whimpered and submitted, squishing his face up until he greatly resembled a pug, or more appropriately, one of those cats that looked like they've been slammed against a window.  Aya snipped carefully before pulling the longer ends out.  About a minute after he'd finished, Youji cracked an eye at him.

"Well, are you just going to keep me waiting?"  He heaved a long-suffering sigh.  Aya raised an eyebrow, flipped the handful of threads at him, and walked out of the room.  "Oh, you're done."  Youji examined the neat, fresh row of scars.  "That wasn't so bad." 

"Mission!"  Omi burst into the training room, dragging Ken after him.  They immediately pulled up short, staring at the scene before them.  "Oh…"  Omi murmured after a time.  "So that's where you were."  Ken coughed awkwardly; Youji stared at him, not moving from his perch on the weight bench.  

  
"Hi."  The fact that Aya was acting as a pad between himself and the weight bench didn't phase him.  Nor did the fact that they were obviously caught in the midst of something basely sexual.  Aya, unfortunately, was not so callous.  But what he lacked in sexual confidence, he made up for tenfold with obstinacy.  He would not be the one to apologize.  He'd make Ken and Omi sweat it out.

Long uncomfortable seconds later, he shifted uncomfortably.  It had been fine when Youji's weight had been spread along the length of him, but now, with his weight centralized and bearing down on his stomach, the position didn't hold quite the allure.  He'd be so much more comfortable, if he could just slide the blonde down a little bit, to bear his weight on his hips.  But he would not show a sign of weakness.  That and the position might be taken the wrong way, by both his body, and their new audience.  

Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to glare at the interruption.  He'd successfully intimidated Ken, who was attempting to pull his lover towards the door, but Omi stood strong.  In fact, he seemed torn between anger at the fact that they'd missed a mission briefing, and elated that he and Youji had been making out in the weight room.  Sometimes he really disliked blondes.

"We missed a mission?"  Youji inched backwards on his perch, enjoying the way Aya squirmed beneath him.  

"No, a mission briefing."  Omi replied, watching as Youji moved his weight so he was no longer suffocating Aya.  He was so thoughtful!

"We accepted for you."  Ken shrugged, tugging at Omi's arm.  Youji was _sitting_ on Aya.  And he was sitting _there.  Did Omi not __see that they wanted to be left alone?  Probably not, Omi didn't see a lot of things.  He thought that Aya and Youji hadn't had sex yet.  How could they not have, with Youji perched so naturally and comfortably, with an audience, no less?  He and Omi weren't even that comfortable yet, and _how_ many times had they done it?  _

"Who's the target?"  Aya asked, watching Youji and silently taking back everything he'd just thought about Youji sitting there.  Sure, he no longer had the air forced out of his lungs from the pressure.  But it wasn't like he could breath any easier now.  Youji _wiggled.  And he didn't even seem aware that he did it.  He didn't just _sit_; he __rubbed, and _skimmed_.  Lanky blondes should be outlawed in some countries.  _

Wouldn't Omi and Ken just go _away?  _

Omi watched as Aya developed a tick in his stomach muscles.  Youji had probably been sitting there for too long.  He looked like he might be in serious pain.  "There's a new drug out on the streets, Conglomerate.  It's a powder and liquid that is combined to form a gel that's then injected into a vein.  It's supposed to create a 'responsible high' that leaves the user in control, with no aftereffects.  

"From what we've gathered it works as promised, the first time.  If you use it again, though, it'll clog your arteries, causing a massive heart attack, followed immediately by blood poisoning.  Not the best way to die.  The only one who has the formula for the drug is the creator, Doctor Kin Murakami.  He's been making a lot of money off of this drug, and killing off drug addicts.  He sees it as a service to humanity.  Our targets are he and his four assistant-slash-bodyguards. Our mission is to take them out and recover a sample of Conglomerate for Kritiker to test." 

Aya half listened to Omi go on about the mission.  It sounded legitimate, and he trusted the kid's judgement.  At the moment, he was more concerned with an immediate problem, that being the one hundred some pounds of male snuggled into his crotch, and, of course, what he'd do if Youji decided to get up.  But he seemed quite content where he was, which wasn't exactly helping his libido, either.  He, the sneaky slut, seemed to be amusing himself, constantly shifting, grinding himself into his erection.  

His body and mind were warring with each other.  One part said to pull the blonde down on top of him, the other said to shove him off.  Neither were currently options.  If he shoved Youji away, he'd be left in a very uncompromising position.  If he pulled him down and ravaged him, well, that would just be awkward for Ken and Omi.  And though momentarily satisfying, he'd get hell about it from Youji for years to come.  

If they were together for years that was.  He couldn't be sure, Youji could get bored with him at any moment, couldn't he?  

But his attention was the problem right now.  Youji stretched his arms out behind him and leaned back, curling his lower back onto his upper thighs, with his own thighs just brushing the muscles of his stomach.  They seemed to jump for contact.  What the hell was Ken going on about mansions and big parties being the mission tonight?  They were stopping a major sale.  He understood that, even if he couldn't think of what was being sold or why they were stopping it at the moment.  Couldn't they just go away?  

Finally, he heard the magic words.  A time to be ready by.  Six.  Surely that meant they were going to leave him alone now.  He needed to sit Youji down and talk to him about paying attention during briefings, even if they were second hand, informal ones like this.  Or he'd ravage  him.  Hell, he was a multi-tasker, he could handle both.  

Youji was going out of his way, flirting, to distract him!  It was completely irresponsible, unprofessional, and irresistible behavior.  No, no!  It was _completely_ resistible.  He could resist!  He had a spine of steel, not to mention other rock hard parts.  

No!  This was all Youji's fault.  Couldn't he just sit quietly and pay attention.  Did he have to twist, expose that long column of throat and the series of love bites branding him?  Yes, he did.  It was amazingly tantalizing.  No, that was bad.  Youji looked more attentive than he did.  There was something very, very wrong with that.  This relationship was going to kill his reputation, just like it killed his attention span.  He wasn't thinking with his head.  Well, he was thinking with his head…just the wrong one.

"Well, we leave at six,"  A bit of conversation slowly processed in his hormone induced brain, "so you should come down and look at the specs for the building before that.  We're not blowing it up or anything," Was that the sound of disappointment in Omi's voice? "but you should know potential hiding places and exits."  With a wave, Omi followed Ken out of the room.  At last they were alone. 

"What the hell did you think you were doing?"  Aya snarled at Youji, who stared at him in shock. 

"My problem?  It's your problem.  I was _going_ to get up, but I took pity on you."  He recovered from his shock and gave Aya a knowing smile.  With a snicker, he wiggled his butt, dipping down to lave his tongue up the creamy stretch of his throat.  

"I am not to blame."  Aya's voice was husky as he attempted to find the footholds in the argument.  "It's not my fault your such a fucking _tease_!  You have no shame!"  Sitting up, he forced Youji back against the elevated barbell at the end of the bench.  

"You drive me to distraction.  You are completely unprofessional.  You're going to get us killed one day."  He punctuated each point with a nip at each love bite before turning to the other side, sucking the skin into his mouth.  He realized vaguely that insults were uncalled for and basically knee-jerk defense mechanisms.  But the fact that he had so little control over his body infuriated him.  He was being a huge hypocrite; but wasn't it always better to vent, rather than let them build up inside?  It was what people had always told him, anyway.  "Did you pay attention at all?"  He growled, lunging at his mouth this time, taking his lower lip between his teeth.  

Frowning, Youji struggled to put him at arm's length.  When he succeeded, Aya didn't let go of his lip, leaving a deep rake in his flesh that quickly welled up with blood.  "Wasn't _I _paying attention?  I was listening patiently.  What were you doing?"  Youji sucked his lip into his mouth to keep the blood from dribbling down his chin.  See, he was distracting him again, fucking tease.  

"What the hell is wrong with you!  You're the fucking tease!"  He shimmied off Aya's thighs, incensed.  "I'm completely willing, but _every time we get close, you find a reason not to!"  The blood trickled as he talked, catching Aya's attention more than his words.  "You're the one who always manages to pull back at the end, or make someone walk in on us, or go to answer the phone!"_

Aya sat back on his heels, staring at the angry, bloody blonde in front of him, suddenly a lot calmer.  "You do realize that I have no control over the phone or when a customer arrives."  He pointed out the irrational accusations, not bothering to touch on the logical ones.  Rubbing a hand through his hair, he stood and stretched.  "I guess its for the best.  We really should go figure out what this mission is.  I wasn't paying much attention."  He glided out of the room, leaving Youji alone and incensed.  

A moment later, the blonde broke into an awkward, split lipped grin.

 "I drove Ayan to _distraction_!"  He cheered, rushing to catch up.

"How is it that you take everything I say and make it sound like innuendo?"

At six forty-two that evening, Weiss arrived in front of what Ken called "the really big, overly elaborate, expensive house on top of the really big, overly elaborate, expensive building", that was more commonly called Crystal House.  The five men stood, silently, dressed their best, and blending perfectly with the crowds of rich, young, and beautiful people milling around outside.  The Crystal House Ball, apparently, was a major event.  

"I can't believe the sale's going down here."  Youji murmured to the others, loosening his tie.  Out of their small group, he looked the most out of place.  Because despite the fact that his tuxedo was a perfect fit, and he had the rich, young and cocky attitude down pat, he couldn't seem to get the kitten-found-the-cream smile off his face.  Nor could he hide the tooth shaped break in his lip and the series of love bites that lined one side of his jaw.  

"Don't talk about it."  Aya responded automatically, tightening the tie under his Adam's apple once more.  

"I can't believe Kritiker got us an invitation.  From what I hear, its pretty hard to do."  He said, more quietly this time.  "Too bad its work, its supposed to be a pretty bit of entertainment."  With a smirk, he loosened the knot.  Rising to the challenge, Aya immediately fixed it, tighter this time. 

"Will you cut it out."  Ken chastised them.  "People are staring."  He stood with Akai and Omi, scanning the crowds for their targets.  

"Why are we standing here?"  Akai spoke, unprompted, for the first time that night.  The crowds of socialites were dampening his normal psychotic pre-mission smile.  

"I don't know."  Omi scanned the crowd, every now and then pointing out a celebrity or rising star.  "Maybe there's a receiving line."  He snickered quietly.  "I can just see it."  He started in his snootiest voice, "Yes, we have an invitation.  From who, you ask?  Well, frankly, its forged, so help me here, give me a name.  What do we do?  Oh, we're five grown men who work at a flower shop, part-time of course.  Yes, I, personally, am from old-money, but since I'm technically dead, I don't see much of it.  We made our fortune killing people like you."  In his normal voice he added.  "How long do you think it would take them to throw us out the door?"  

Akai stared at him, mouth slightly open.  "I doubt we'd even make it to the door."  Aya answered. 

"They wouldn't have a door to throw us out of, so they'd improvise, and throw us off the roof."  Youji agreed.  

Ken shuddered dramatically, "Don't even joke about that."  And with a glance around.  "If they do ask, what do we say?"  

"We're not at liberty to say."  Akai offered with the return of his pre-mission psycho smile.  Youji shook his head with a wry smile, for once, approving of the younger boy. 

"I am so paranoid!"  Omi whimpered, sneaking up behind Ken and grabbing his hand.  The older woman who had been stalking him for a dance glanced down and up a few times over before sighing her defeat and leaving in search of straighter prey.  "They keep coming after me."  He confided in his lover's ear.  

"The target."  Ken turned on him quickly, scanning the crowd for the familiar faces.  The place was filled with the expensively dressed rich, but the activities that took place mirrored that of parties around the world:  drinking beyond ones limits, dancing uninhibited, and gathering blackmail of others doing the latter.  A few people were eyeing them pointedly, but no one appeared to be attacking.

  
"No."  Omi chided softly, then in a soft whisper, like that used by children telling ghost stories, he confided, "_Women_."  Ken laughed, and took him in his arms. "Have you seen anything?"

"Women, yeah, a couple of them have come after me.  I told them I was here with a date."  Ken smiled, sweeping the blonde around in a circle.  "Do you think we'd get in trouble for one quick dance?"  He waltzed Omi towards the dance floor.

"With the people here, probably not."  Omi shrugged.  "With Aya, definitely.  We're here for a reason."  As the last words left his mouth, he stilled.  "Speak of the devil." 

Ken turned quickly.  "What, Aya was dancing?"  He said that a little too loud.  More people were staring at them.  They thought they didn't belong, he could read it in their faces.  They were just too polite to say anything.

"No," Omi whispered sadly.  "I saw Murakami, but he's gone now."  Touching the tiny device in his ear, he murmured.  "Youji, you over by the bar."  

There was a tiny pause before Youji came on.  "You know me too well."  He laughed out.  

  
"Well Murakami was last sighted moving towards you.  See what you can do about it."  He dropped his hand away to link it around Ken's neck.  "I hate all these public affairs.  We never went to them before."  He worded things carefully, but the meaning was the same.  

"I know."  Ken brushed his face in his hair.  "After this, I think I'm going to decline anything in the spotlight."  He drank in Omi's delicate scent of shampoo and cologne.  "I swear you're worse than a drug.  You should be illegal."  He chuckled lightly.  "Next thing you know we'll have to go take out whoever created you."  He watched Omi's face fall, and playing back his words to himself, he realized how insensitive he sounded.  "God, Omi, I'm sorry."  He repented.  

Omi mumbled something along the lines of "Its fine," when he really meant "You're an insensitive dolt and not getting any tonight."  With a sigh, Ken pulled away.  A moment later, Omi was lunging at him, using his shoulders as a lift to see behind him.  "What's happening over there?"  He wondered.  Turning, Ken saw for himself.

"Nobaria?"  A string of warning bells went off in Akai's head.  "Akai Nobaria, is that you?"  He should have know there would be some rich military official in this crowd.  Why hadn't Shin told him during the briefing?  He briefly debated fleeing, but no doubt that would cause problems down the line.  

Why couldn't the target just start the sale so they could get out of here already!  Plastering a hopefully-not-demented smile on his face, Akai turned to face the ghost from his past.  

"Ota!"  The requisite slaps on the backs ensued.  "I didn't know you'd be here."  He really should have known.  The man had everything this crowd looked for,  youth, looks, style, money, and most of all, power.  His nostrils flared alarmingly, but he forced himself to calm.  After the mission tonight, he'd come back for Yoshi Ota.  The forced smile gradually became a real one.  

"What happened to you?  I got word that you'd been shipped off to, you know,_ the old woman."  He glanced around uneasily, and as if sensing no danger, continued on in his normal, booming voice.  "Man, the stories I hear about that hag.  I heard from someone that she was controling an entire team of retired ops.  Heard she just got ahold of an assassins guild or something.  Through puppets, of course.  I can't see the old woman involved doing anything physical."  He smirked, giving Akai another slap on the back.  "But rumors are rumors.  You wouldn't be involved with anything like that."  Did he have to smile so sincerely?  "Even if Gran's amazing, I hear she's got a few screws loose.  Bet it only makes her even more dangerous. _

"But seriously, what happened to you?  I haven't seen you in a year!  Heard you flipped out like your old man.  Thought they'd tuck you away somewhere, but look at you!  You look great."  Akai's smile turned more and more bitter.  The man was drunk.  His blades loved intoxicated bloods.  And it had been so long since they'd gotten a full meal at close range.  Tonight they'd be sated for sure. 

With a quick glance around him, Akai tugged on the man's tie, hissing in a low clear voice.  "Why don't we get together later tonight.  I'll catch you up and we can reminisce 'bout the good old days over a beer."  He let the man go with a sharp shove, quickly turning on his heal.  And walked straight into Ken's chest.  

"They're not responding."  Aya met up with Youji on the third floor, the latter having tracked Murakami thus far.  "We can't take on all five with just two of us."  He had retrieved the bag with their weapons and was currently shuffling through its contents.  

"Unless we take out a few with darts first, but we'll be doing it in plain sight."  Worrying his split lip, Youji held out his hand to accept a few.  Tapping the link, he gave the others the basics before motioning to Youji to move.  A moment later the link came to life again.

"Do you really need us?"  Omi sounded worried.  

"Because we've got a little problem of our own, right now."  Ken sounded bitter.  "Don't we, Akai."  Both assassins stilled, mid-step.  

"Is everything alright?"  Aya asked seriously.

"It will be, we're probably overreacting.  Ken, really."  Omi didn't sound at all convinced by his own words.  "Once we get some answers.  We'll be outside.  Call if you need backup."  With a resigned sigh, he cut the link again.

"Akai?"  Youji breathed out in a mix of disbelief and certainty.  "I'll string the little shit by his balls."  He decided, quietly, as they neared the room Murakami had disappeared into.  "I just hope I live long enough to do it."  

Standing braced on either side of the door, the pair waited.  Aya unsheathed his katana, and Youji had a bit of wire pinched between the fingers of his watch hand.  In his other he clutched three darts.  Silently, they nudged open the door, before bursting in, ready to take out the bad guy.

It didn't quite go as planned.  The entire room was empty, but the huge crystal window for which Crystal House got its name gave them a view of the terrace.  Where Murakami, his assistants, and their customer sat drinking in plain view.  

"Hell."  Youji muttered, they were completely exposed should anyone look out.  They could easily shoot straight through the window and they'd be goners.  The only chance they had was if the made it to the door outside without being seen.  Tapping into the link, Youji whispered a quick threat, adding, "I expect your part of the payment for this," at the end.  

Glancing over at Aya, he shrugged, and quietly, the pair crept toward the wall. They had no way of knowing if they could still be seen from the position.  Luck was on their side for at least one thing tonight, as they made it without incident.  Inching open the door, Youji tossed the three darts in quick succession, hitting two of the beefiest 'assistants'.  

When their attention was focused on the slumped men, he and Aya stepped out.  Chaos reigned, and Youji strung Murakami over the balcony while Aya took out the last remaining assistants, and the buyers who had played witness.  Amazingly, they pulled it off without killing themselves.  

The mission wasn't one of their prouder ones, executing sloppily and even taking out the buyers who weren't even targets.  They staggered to the closest exit, hoping Ken and Omi were in better shape than they were.

"I feel really bad about making Aya and Youji face do everything by themselves."  Omi murmured later that night, tucked tight beside Ken.  

"They were amazing for two people and seven targets."  Ken countered.  "And they're getting our share."  He sounded none too pleased about it.  

"Well, that's only fair."  Omi sighed, flopping his head against the pillow restlessly.  "Youji just got his stitches out today.  And Aya got his in."  He gave a crooked smile, "Does that mean anything?"  He wondered.

"That you're thinking too damn much."  Ken grouched, groping for an extra pillow and smothering the smaller man with it.  

"You're too grumpy."  Omi muttered when let up for air.  

"We left them to a mission by themselves for nothing!"  Ken threw the pillow across the room.  "I still don't trust him.  Drunks aren't _that creative."  He rolled over on top of Omi, stripping him as he griped.  _

"I bugged his case."  Omi moaned out when he had the breath to do so.  Ken jerked up, staring at him.

"What?"  

"I bugged the briefcase he keeps his blades in."  Omi continued.  "The one he takes everywhere."  Ken sat up, staring at his little genius of a boyfriend.

"You bugged his case."  He smiled slowly, then frowned.  "Where's the recording equipment?"  He worried.

"The back of the delivery bike."  Omi mumbled through a yawn.  Incredulous, Ken stared at his little freak of a boyfriend.

"You fit all that high tech gear, into that cheap little shit of a bike?"  He rolled onto his back and stared up into the dark.  "You are so weird."  

"But its smart."  Omi countered, a small smile gracing his features.

"Same thing."  Ken murmured with a similar little smile.

"No it's not."  Omi countered with a giggle, "Youji's weird, that doesn't make him smart."  

And the previously morose atmosphere was lost, as always, at Youji's expense.  

A/N (3):  This is a sillier chapter than most.  I guess it was just the mood I was in.  I only hope in makes sense.  Once again, thanks to those who read and review!  Also, from here on out, look for this story as R rated.  I think my wording may be a little more graphic than fanfiction.net would approves of for PG-13.  

_-miyamoto:  I aim to please. ^_^_

_-mayorie:  No Schwarz, sorry.__  With them in the picture, I seem to loose control of the plot.  This one's all my baddies.  *sigh* I won't be doing Schwarz until Cold Child approves of my Schu-playing ability. _

_-chibi-chan:  Its fun developing Akai!  He's screwed up beyond normal Weiss limits, which becomes almost comical.  _

_-tmelange: Thanks, I just thought that near 5,000 words was a little much…_

_-maelstrom of chaos:  Thank you!  I hope Aya and Youji are still pleasing you.  _

_Chapter Six will be out soon after I get home.  I'm going to Otakon in __Baltimore__, and should be back August 12th!_


	6. The Dangers of Unlabeled Bottles

**__**

Blooded Petals

By Eternitys End

Normal disclaimers apply: I do not, nor do I claim to, hold any ownership over Weiss Kreuz or any of its parts. More's the pity.

Chapter Six: The Dangers of Unlabeled Bottles

"Ota!" Was it really so necessary to touch every time they saw each other?

"Nobaria, how's it hanging?" Did he really have to inquire as to the state of his reproductive organs?

"Fine, fine. How about you?" Was it too much to hope he'd let him off with a single word answer?

"Well, let me see…" Yes, apparently it was. "Did you hear I got married?" The man's every movement seemed bouncy, full of life. Thankfully, that wouldn't last for long. He'd make sure of it.

"You, settling down?" Akai couldn't keep that hint of a sneer from his voice. 

Yoshi chortled happily. "I know, I know. It's hard to believe." He was either oblivious, or he didn't care. One could never be so sure. "Where we going?" So he was oblivious. He had too much trust for one of his position. It would get him killed someday. That day was today. 

"A place I know." The baboon just nodded, accepting. Was this really the state of their government today? Perhaps it was a good thing that Gran would soon take over.

"What's in the case? Pictures. You've got to see my Remi, bet you never thought I'd be a good father." Oaf! He didn't even bother to wait for an answer. "Told the wife I was meeting with an old friend later tonight. She wanted to come, fancies herself tough. But I thought you might be too much for the little lady. Never met a man as efficient as you, I told her. Our history isn't too pretty; best she doesn't hear about it."

What was this man babbling on about? Did he ever really consider him a friend? "We're here." It was a quiet little bar, perfect for what he wanted. Gran held a grudge against the owner. She'd be pleased if they got trashed by the media. Harboring dead bodies could really ruin a place's reputation. "I reserved a room." Everyone was so base. He'd reserved the room under a false name and paid cash. He'd requested complete privacy. The idiots didn't think twice. 

"Always thinking ahead," Yoshi clucked appreciatively. "I never got the real story, why was it that you had to leave?" The door slammed shut firmly. The moron owner was thoughtful enough to provide a lock. He deserved his fate. So did Ota. 

"I had to leave," It felt good to drop the amiable façade. Twisting his face into a goofy smile, politely chatting with the enemy, he was barely able to pull it off. Gran was stupid to choose him for the Weiss plant. He'd have done much better switched with Tadashi. Being Persia, having all that power…he'd have it all if Tadashi screwed up. 

Now there was a thought.

"You heard correctly." Akai continued after a while, setting his case on the worn table top between himself and Ota. "I was sent off to that crazy old widow. The kind, gentle old woman who takes in broken soldiers, she's been taking care of me." The first trickle of adrenaline entered his bloodstream. The rush relaxed him, even as Ota tensed up, backing away from the transformed man before him.

"You mean she really is…the Sato hag is…" He actually choked at the appearance of his blades. Pathetic! What was their army coming to today? Gran really would be better off in charge.

"Plotting?" Akai nodded encouragingly. "She's going to take over, you see. She's taking out the competition, using their own dogs against them." His blades screamed for blood. One step, two, had Ota backed against the wall. They squealed with delight, raised up on either side of their victim. "But that's no longer important to you." 

The smaller curve tucked into its victim's neck. The pulse beneath the silver was erratic, fearful. The fool didn't so much as have the sense to fight. "You won't be around to see it." The larger glided over his abdominal region, tearing away an expensively tailored suit. Abdominal muscles quivered at the metallic kiss. "I am, however, concerned about this wife of yours." Seeing his eyes go glassy with fear, it had been too long since he'd witnessed death so closely. "You told her you were meeting me? A good operative wouldn't leave her to talk, would he?" Protest was visible in Ota's eyes. He wanted to speak, but fear for himself kept him silent. Really, he was so base. An animal was completely selfish in protecting himself. His family was no longer a concern.

"P...please." A word, simple though it was. It had probably taken all his courage. Otherwise, he was no better than a mannequin. 

"Open your mouth." Akai instructed shortly. Yoshi couldn't comply faster. "You don't want to die, do you?" He shook his head vehemently. The small blade slid its way into the moist cavern. "Well, I'm sorry." The slightest pressure cut into his tongue like butter. "I didn't want to be excused either." With a flick, it was done. The lumpish muscle came free as life faded from his eyes. The warm gush of blood over his fingers felt so good. It was like being born again, warm and safe. But it wasn't quite enough. The other blade felt left out, now. And there was no telling how long it would be until they could feast freely again.

"Hello? Anyone here?" Youji elbowed in the screen door. He'd received no answer. "I could use help!" Balancing one grocery bag atop another, and then leaning them against the doorframe, he freed a hand only long enough to push open the main door. Shuffling in to the hallway, the screen door swung shut, catching his heel and sending him tottering forward. Long honed reflexes kicked in, and he managed to save himself, along with the groceries, from a graceless fall. Only a bag of Ken's whole-grain, low calorie, high carbohydrate, no-fun, fake bread-type stuff tumbled to a squashed heap on the floor. 

It was bread, no big deal.

Ken, however, did not feel quite the same way, as he entered at that exact, inopportune moment.

"What are you doing to my food?" Ken yelped out, making no move to save the product. 

"If I had help carrying things in, it wouldn't have happened." Youji corrected, waiting patiently for Ken to generously offer his services.

"You squashed it!" Ken grumbled, plucking up the bag and attempting to reshape the mass inside. "You're so careless!" He insulted, plopping it back atop the pile. 

This was where Ken would take a bag and help him put everything away. Youji waited patiently, watching as Ken made no move to help. 

"Thank you!" He ground out after a minute or two. "I really appreciate your help." 

Ken watched, flabbergasted, as Youji shuffled angrily into the kitchen. "What crawled up your ass?" He inquired lazily.

"Nothing." Youji didn't seem to be in a very good mood. 

"And there in lies the problem?" Ken asked with a half laugh. 

Youji dumped the load in his arms onto the countertop before spinning on the younger man. "Can't I get a little bit of help around here?" 

"Help? Sure you can. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." Poor, unassuming Ken was about to step into a very big hole. "I was wondering if you could help me with the laundry. I don't have any clean underwear, and Omi's busy in the shop."

Youji made a strangled 'Aaargh!' type noise. Ken backed away slowly. "No one else gets things as soft as you do."

"There's softener right next to the detergent! Use it!" Ken wrinkled his nose. 

"I'm not supposed to use bleach." He announced warily. "It's your laundry day, anyway."

The tall blonde in the kitchen turned towards the wall. He braced both hands flat against it, as if he were about to be searched. He began to bang his head against the wall. "Get…out…now." He recommended in between hits. 

Ken edged his way from the room.

"It's your night for dinner." Aya popped his head into the kitchen only seconds later. Raising an eyebrow, he exited without a word.

Slumping to the ground, he announced to the world at large: "I am not your mother, servant, nor your slave!" After a healthy amount of sniffling, he stood resolutely and headed to the washroom.

At six p.m. that night, a questionable smell was wafting through the Weiss apartment. An array of curses and exclamations provided background noise for everything the boys might do. Aya was absolutely determined not to go help. 

"Is he okay?" Omi bit his lip, eyeing the closed door to the kitchen after a particularly long stint of maniacal laughing. The occasional billow of smoke would gust from the crack between floor and door. "Shouldn't we go help him?"

They'd laid all the chores on Youji today. It served him right for doing the same to them so many times in the past. "He'll be fine." Aya strained upward with the crowbar to catch the gate, closing the store for the night. "He's cooked before." 

"He might try to poison us." Ken voiced his worries, sorting out the drawer. "He was scary this afternoon, I think he might have gotten brain damage."

"That's nothing new." Aya reassured him. 

Omi looked more worried. Ken rolled his eyes. A shapely pair of legs appeared just before Aya could slam the gate down. "I know those legs." His eyes widened in shock at the words that had just passed his lips. It was the final straw. He could no longer spend time around Youji. 

"Abyssinian?" Manx wore an equally worried gaze. She looked from boy to boy before sniffing the air suspiciously. "Why do I smell teriyaki sauce and vanilla?" 

"So _that's _what it was…I knew that bottle wasn't the right one." Youji slaved over the stove, a frying pan in hand. "It does taste good, though. You should try some." He offered the big wooden spoon around, faced with uncertain glances and halfhearted apologies. "Serves you right." He sniffed, putting down the utensil and crossing his arms in front of him. "So what's going on?" 

"I've been in Italy." Manx announced. "On assignment, recruiting a hard to find agent for non-lethal." She looked around the kitchen. "Only recently, have I discovered the operation was a hoax." Seriously, she stared into their eyes, confirming their fears. "It seems that Kritiker has been infiltrated. We are no longer in control of our own company." 

"What are you talking about, the new Persia…" Omi hoped for the best but received the worst. 

"Was voted in." Manx agreed. "By the members of our board, they'd been paid off." 

"Then Akai…and Tonkinese…" Aya made the connection, a scowl forming.

"I only know so much." Manx evaded nicely. "But they were hired by Tadashi Sato, the new Persia. He was the son of a brilliant military scientist, Baiko Sato, in charge of training specialized recruits." She shrugged. "He committed suicide half a year ago. Tadashi was discharged from service shortly before that. He was supposed to be in his mother's care, an Arisa Sato. I don't see how this could have escaped Kritiker, I'm afraid the organization may very well be corrupt." She rubbed a weary hand over her face. "I'm not quite comfortable making this decision on my own, but, White Knights, deny these evil beasts their tomorrows." 

The room lapsed into stunned silence. Tentatively, Ken spoke up. "Um, Manx…" He chuckled nervously. "Who exactly are the targets?"

"Where's Omi?" Ken stood in the kitchen, spooning an awful looking paste into his mouth. "We have to go out to dinner and work on finding evidence against this Sato guy, right?" He looked over to Youji, who had a proud look on his face.

"See, it is good. Isn't it?" He prodded Aya repeatedly as he spoke. "You really should eat it, nutritional value or not. It does taste good." He pointed at Ken and then back at Aya. "He likes it." 

"That's not enough to go on." Aya replied truthfully. "A few hours from now he'll be sick." Ken blanched, staring at the pot in his hand. Slowly, he placed it on the counter top. Youji let out a forlorn whimper. 

"I'm not paying. It was edible, you just chose not to eat it."

No one gave him a straight answer. "Where is Omi?" Ken waited impatiently. 

A moment later scuffling of feet gave them their answer.

"I have it!" Omi couldn't quite decide whether he was happy or disgusted as an array of expressions flashed over his face. 

Youji looked hopeful. "You have the money to pay for dinner!" 

Omi looked confused, but explained his comment nonetheless. "I have the proof we need." He waved a small cassette at them. Thoughts of dinner were forgotten as they followed him downstairs to listen to his findings. 

Popping the tape into a small player, the group gathered around to listen. There was a moment of whirring tape, as Omi located the proper section, then the low, controlled voice of Akai filled the room. "You heard correctly." Youji, lax on the couch, jerked to attention at the unexpected familiarity. "I was sent off to that crazy old widow. The kind, gentle old woman who takes in broken soldiers, she's been taking care of me." Aya frowned as the control in the voice slipped, filling with emotion. "You mean she really is…the Sato hag is…" The new voice shivered with fear. Ken ducked his head as he finally placed it with the man from the last mission, the one they'd shrugged off along with suspicions of Akai.

"Sato hag." Aya stopped the tape for a moment. "Tadashi Sato's mother?" His inquiry was met with nods. 

"Plotting?" The tape rolled again. "She's going to take over, you see. She's taking out the competition, using their own dogs against them." Their suspicions were confirmed ten times over. 

"We're not dogs!" Ken scoffed.

The tape played on. "But that's no longer important to you." Omi quickly shut off the sound, betraying an idea of what might follow. 

"So Akai's in on it." Youji silently cheered his instincts. 

"We need more information on Tonkinese. And there might be others involved." Omi procured a file folder, fanning out the information inside. "Arisa Sato and her son Tadashi are our main targets." He gave a small, forlorn sigh. "Akai, too."

"How are we going to do this with a target sleeping under the same roof?" Youji glared upwards, as if condemning the roof for shielding Akai. 

"Manx is stopping by tomorrow." Aya ordered abruptly. "Until then, we don't know anything."

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A/N: Continued in Chapter Seven, I apologize if this seems shorter and choppier than the rest. Its not as happy and comical as the others either…oh well, I'll make up for it in the next chapter. Please review. Thank you to my reviewers:

Chibi-chan no Hentai: The stitches scene was my favorite, I'm glad someone else liked it!

Sky-rat: Thanks for reviewing (so much!) and I updated tonight as promised. 

Anime the Fallen Angel: Now you know Gran. 

Methodic Madness: Thank you for your in-depth review!


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